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Bert Lloyd’s Boyhood 


Page 35 






BERT LLOYD’S 


BOYHOOD 


J. MACDONALD OXLEY. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

£iriepican Baptist Pablicatioii gociety, 

1420 Chestnut Street. 


1 



Bert Lloyd’s boyhood 



J. MACDONALD OXLEY. 

5 *^ 


MAY 221889 . 

9ea.sr 

‘^-^shingtO^- 


PHILADELPHIA ; 

AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
1420 Chestnut Street. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by the 
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER I. 

Bert is Introduced, 6 

CHAPTER II. 

Fireman or Soldier, 11 

CHAPTER III. 

No. 6 Fort Street, 17 

CHAPTER IV. 

Off to the Country, 21 

CHAPTER Y. 

The Ride in the Coach, 28 

CHAPTER VI. 

At Grandfather’s, 37 

CHAPTER VII. 

Country Experiences, 44 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Temptation and Triumph, 64 

CHAPTER IX. 

Lost and Found, 63 

CHAPTER X. 

Bert goes to School, 77 


CHAPTER XI. 

School Life at Mr. Garrison’s, 88 

CHAPTER XII. 


A Question of Influence, 102 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Bert at Home, 112 

CHAPTER XIV. 

An Honorable Scar, 122 

CHAPTER XV. 

A Change of School, 183 


3 


4 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 

CHAPTER XYL 

The First Days at Dr. Johnston’s, . . . 145 

CHAPTER XYII. 

The Hoisting, 156 

CHAPTER XYIIL 

School Experience, 167 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Yictory and Defeat, . 178 

CHAPTER XX. 

A Narrow Escape, 193 

CHAPTER XXL 

Learning to Swim, 206 

CHAPTER XXII. 

How Hoisting was Abolished, 215 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Prize Winning and Losing, 226 

CHAPTER XXIY. 


A Chapter on Ponies, 24C 

CHAPTER XXY. 

About Two Kinds of Ponies, 250 

CHAPTER XXYI. 

Yictory Won From Defeat, 260 

CHAPTER XXYIL 

About Literature and Law, 274 

CHAPTER XXYIII. 

Well done. Boys, 287 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Yalley of the Shadow, . . ' . . . 300 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Home Missionary Work, 310 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Not Dead, but Translated, 320 

CHAPTER XXXII. 


Boys no Longer, 


333 


BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 


CHAPTER I. 

BEET IS INTRODUCED. 

I F Cutlibert Lloyd had been born in the time of our 
great grandfathers, instead of a little later than 
the first half of the present century, the gossips would 
assuredly have declared that the good fairies had had 
it all their own way at his birth. 

To begin with, he was a particularly fine handsome 
baby ; for did not all the friends of the family say so ? 
In the second place, he was an only son, which meant 
that he had no big brothers to bully him. Next, his 
birthplace was the stirring seaport of Halifax, where 
a sturdy, energetic boy, such as Cuthbert certainly gave 
good promise of being, need never lack for fun or 
adventure. Finally, he had plenty of relations in the 
country to whom he might go in the summer time to 
learn the secrets and delights of country life. 

Now, when to all these advantages are added two 
fond but sensible parents in comfortable circumstances, 
an elder sister who loved little Cuthbert with the whole 
strength of her warm unselfish heart, and a pleasant 


6 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


home in the best part of the city, they surely make us 
as fine a list of blessings as the most benevolent fairy 
godmother could reasonably have been expected to 
bestow. 

And yet there was nothing about Master Cuthbert’s 
early conduct to indicate that he properly appreciated 
his good fortune. He was not half as well-behaved a 
baby, for instance, as red-headed little Patsey Shea, 
who, a few days after his first appearance, brought 
another hungry mouth to the already over-populated 
cottage of the milkwoman down in Hardhands’s lane. 
As he grew older, it needed more whippings than the 
sum total of his own chubby fingers and toes to instill 
into him a proper understanding of parental authority. 
Sometimes his mother, who was a slight small woman, 
stronger of mind than of body, would feel doAvnright 
discouraged about her vigorous, willful boy, and wonder, 
half-despairingly, if she were really equal to the task 
of bringing him up in the way he should go. 

Cuthbert was in many respects an odd mixture. 
His mother often said that he seemed more like two 
boys of opposite natures rolled into one, than just one 
ordinary boy. When quite a little chap, he would at 
one time be as full of noise, action, and enterprise as 
the captain of an ocean steamer in a gale, and at 
another time be as sedate, thoughtful, and absent- 
minded as the ancient philosopher who made himself 
famous by walking into a well in broad daylight. 

Cuthbert, in fact, at the age of three, attracted atten- 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


7 


tion to himself in a somewhat similar way. His 
mother had taken him with her in making some calls, 
and at Mrs. Allen’s, in one of his thoughtful moods, 
with his hands clasped behind him, he went wandering 
off unobserved. Presently he startled the whole house- 
hold by tumbling from the top to the bottom of the 
kitchen stairs, having calmly walked over the edge in 
an absorbed study of his surroundings. 

The other side of his nature was brilliantly illus- 
trated a year later. Being invited to spend the day 
with a playmate of his own age, he built a big fire 
with newspapers in the bath room, turned on all the 
taps, pretending that they were the hydrants, and then 
ran through the hall, banging a dustpan and shouting 
fire ” at the top of his voice. 

He is such a perfect ‘ pickle/ I hardly know what 
to do with him, Robert,” said Mrs. Lloyd to her 
husband, with a big sigh, one evening at dinner. 

“ Don’t worry, my dear, don’t worry. He has more 
than the usual amount of animal spirits, that is all. 
Keep a firm hand on him and he’ll come out all right,” 
answered Mr. Lloyd, cheeringly. 

It’s easy enough to say, ^ Keep a firm hand on him,’ 
Robert, but my hand gets pretty tired sometimes, I 
can assure you. I just wish you’d stay at home for a 
week and look after Bert, while I go to the office in 
your place. You’d get a better idea of what your son 
is like than you can by seeing him for a little while in 
the morning and evening.” 


8 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Thank you, Kate, I’ve no doubt you might manage 
to do my work at the office, and that my clients would 
think your advice very good ; but I’m no less sure 
that I would be a dismal failure in doing your work 
at home,” responded Mr. Lloyd, with a smile, adding, 
more seriously : “ Anyway, I have too much faith in 
your ability to make the best of Bert to think of 
spoiling your good work by clumsy interference.” 

It’s a great comfort to have you put so much faith 
in me,” said Mrs. Lloyd, with a grateful look, “ for 
it’s more than Bert does sometimes. Why, he told me 
only this morning that he thought I wasn’t half as 
good to him as Frankie Clayton’s mother is to him, 
just because I wouldn’t let him have the garden hose 
to play fireman with.” 

‘‘Just wait until he’s fifteen, my dear,” returned 
Mr. Lloyd, “and if he doesn’t think then that he 
has one of the best mothers in the world, why — I’ll 
never again venture to prophesy, that’s all. And here 
comes my little man to answer for himself,” as the 
door opened suddenly and Bert burst in, making 
straight for his father. “ Ha ! ha ! my boy, so your 
mother says you’re a perfect pickle. AVell, if you’re 
only pickled in a way that will save you from spoiling, 
I shall be satisfied, and I think your mother may be, 
too.” 

Mrs. Lloyd laughed heartily at the unexpected turn 
thus given to her complaint; and Bert, seeing both his 
parents in such good humor, added a beaming face on 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


9 


his own account, although, of course, without having 
the slightest idea as to the cause of their merriment. 

Climbing up on his father’s knee, Bert pressed a 
plump cheek lovingly against the lawyer’s brown 
whiskers and looked, what indeed he was, the picture 
of happy content. 

What sort of a man are you going to make, Bert?” 
asked Mr. Lloyd, quizzingly, the previous conversation 
being still in his mind. 

I’m going to be a fireman,” replied Bert, promptly ; 
^^and Frankie’s going to be one, too.” 

And why do you want to be a fireman, Bert ? ” 

Oh, because they wear such grand clothes and can 
make such a noise without anybody telling them to 
shut up,” answered Bert, whose knowledge of firemen 
was based upon a torchlight procession of them he 
had seen one night, and their management of a fire 
that had not long before taken place in the near neigh- 
borhood, and of which he was a breathless spectator. 

Mr. Lloyd could not resist laughing at his son’s 
naive reply, but there was no ridicule in his laugh, 
as Bert saw clearly enough, and he was encouraged to 
add: 

Oh, father, please let me be a fireman, won’t you?” 

We’ll see about it, Bert. If we can’t find anything 
better for you to do than being a fireman, why we’ll 
try to make a good fireman of you, that’s all. But 
never mind about that uqw ; tell me what was the best 
fun you had to-day.” Thus invited, Bert proceeded 


10 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


to tell after his own fashion the doings of the day, with 
his father and mother an attentive audience. 

It was their policy to always manifest a deep interest 
in everything Bert had to tell, and in this way they 
made him understand better perhaps than they could 
otherwise have done hoAV thoroughly they sympathized 
with him in both the joys and sorrows of his little 
life. They were determined that the most complete 
confidence should be established between them and 
their only boy at the start, and Bert never appeared 
to such advantage as when, with eyes flashing and 
graphic gestures, he would tell about something won- 
derful in his eyes that had happened to him that 
afternoon. 

By the time Bert had exhausted his budget and 
been rewarded with a lump of white sugar, the nurse 
appeared with the summons to bed, and after some 
slight demur he went off in good humor, his father 
saying, as the door closed upon him : 

There’s not a better youngster of his age in Hali- 
fax, Kate, even if he hasn’t at present any higher 
ambition than to be a fireman.” 


CHAPTER II. 


FIREMAN OR SOLDIER. 

H alifax has already been mentioned as a par- 
ticularly pleasant place for a boy to be born in ; 
and so indeed it is. Every schoolboy knows, or 
ought to know, that it is the capital of Acadia, one 
of the Maritime Provinces of the Dominion of 
Canada. It has a great many advantages, some of 
which are not shared by any other city on the conti- 
nent. Situated right on the sea coast, it boasts a 
magnificent harbor, in which all the war vessels of the 
world, from the mightiest iron clad to the tiniest tor- 
pedo boat, might lie at anchor. Beyond the harbor, 
separated from it by only a short strait, well-named 
the Narrows,’^ is an immense basin that seems just 
designed for yachting and excursions ; while branch- 
ing out from the harbor in different directions are two 
lovely fiords, one called the Eastern Passage, leading 
out to the ocean again, and the other running aAvay up 
into the land, so that there is no lack of salt water 
from which cool breezes may blow on the torrid days. 

The city itself is built upon the peninsula that 
divides the harbor from the northwest arm, and 
beginning about half a mile from the point of the 
peninsula, runs northward almost to the Narrows, and 

11 


12 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


spreads out westward until its farthest edge touches 
the shore of the arm. The Point has been wisely 
set aside for a public park, and except where a fort or 
two, built to command the entrance to the harbor, 
intrudes upon it, the forest of spruce and fir with its 
labyrinth of roads and paths and frequent glades of 
soft waving grass, extends from shore to shore, mak- 
ing a wilderness that a boy's imagination may easily 
people with Indians brandishing tomahawk and scalp- 
ing knife, or bears and wolves seeking whom they 
may devour. 

Halifax being the chief military and naval station 
for the British Colonies in America, its forts and bar- 
racks are filled with red-coated infantry or blue-coated 
artillery the whole year round. All summer long 
great iron clads bring their imposing bulks to anchor 
off the Dockyard, and Jack Tars in foolish, merry, 
and, alas ! too often vicious companies, swagger 
through the streets in noisy enjoyment of their day on 
shore. 

On either side of the harbor, on the little island 
w^hich rests like an emerald brooch upon its bosom, 
and high above the city on the crown of the hill up 
which it wearily climbs, street beyond street, stand 
frowning fortresses with mighty guns thrusting their 
black muzzles through the grauite embrasures. In 
fact, the whole place is pervaded by the influences of 
military life ; and Cuthbert, whose home overlooked a 
disused fort, now serving the rather ignoble purpose 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


13 


of a dwelling-place for married soldiers, was at first 
fully persuaded in his mind that the desire of his life 
was to be a soldier ; and it was not until he went to a 
military review, and realized that the soldiers had to 
stand up awfully stiff and straight, and dare not open 
their mouths for the world, that he dismissed the idea 
of being a soldier, and adopted that of being a fire- 
man. 

Yet there were times when he rather regretted his 
decision, and inclined to waver in his allegiance. 
His going to the Sunday-school with his sister had 
something to do with this. A favorite hymn with the 
superintendent — ^who, by the way, was a retired 
officer — was — 

“Onward, Christian soldiers.” 

The bright stirring tune, and the tremendous vigor 
with which the scholars sang it, quite took Cuthbert’s 
heart. He listened eagerly, but the only words he 
caught were the first, which they repeated so often : 

“ Onward, Christian soldiers.” 

Walking home with his sister, they met a small de- 
tachment of soldiers, looking very fine in their Sun- 
day uniforms : 

^^Are those Christian soldiers, Mary?” he asked, 
looking eagerly up into her face. 

Perhaps so, Bert, I don’t know, ” Mary replied. 

What makes you ask ? ” 

Because we were singing about Christian soldiers, 
weren’t we ? ” answered Bert. 


14 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Oh ! is that what you mean, Bert ? They may be, 
for all I know. Would you like to be a Christian 
soldier ? ” 

^^Yes,” doubtfully; then, brightening up — but 
couldn’t I be a Christian fireman, too ? ” 

Of course you could, Bert, but I’d much rather 
see you a Christian soldier. Mr. Hamilton is a Chris- 
tian soldier, you know.” 

This reply of his sister’s set Bert’s little brain at 
work. Mr. Hamilton, the superintendent of the Sun- 
day-school, was a tall, erect, handsome man, with fine 
gray hair and whiskers, altogether an impressive 
gentleman ; yet he had a most winning manner, and 
Bert was won to him at once when he was welcomed 
by him warmly to the school. Bert could not imag- 
ine anything grander than to be a Christian soldier, if 
it meant being like Mr. Hamilton. Still the fireman 
notion had too many attractions to be lightly thrown 
aside, and consequently for some time to come he 
could hardly be said to know his own mind as to his 
future. 

The presence of the military in Halifax was far 
from being an unmixed good. Of course, it helped 
business, gave employment to many hands, imparted 
peculiar life and color to society, and added many ex- 
cellent citizens to the population. At the same time 
it had very marked drawbacks. There was always a 
great deal of drunkenness and other dissipation among 
the soldiers and sailors. The officers were not the 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


15 


most improving of companions and models for the 
young men of the place, and in other ways the city 
was the worse for their presence. 

Mrs. Lloyd presently found the soldiers a source of 
danger to her boy. Just around the corner at the 
entrance to the old fort, already mentioned, was a 
guardhouse, and here some half-dozen soldiers were 
stationed day and night. They were usually jolly 
fellows, who were glad to get hold of little boys to play 
with and thereby help to while away the time in their 
monotonous life. Cuthbert soon discovered the attrac- 
tions of this guardhouse and, in spite of commands to the 
contrary, which he seemed unable to remember, wan- 
dered off thither very often. All the other little boys 
in the neighborhood went there whenever they liked, 
and he could not understand why he should not do so 
too. He did not really mean to defy his parents. He 
was too young for that, being only six years old. But 
the force of the example of his playmates seemed 
stronger than the known wishes of his parents, and so 
he disobeyed them again and again. 

Mrs. Lloyd might, of course, have carried her point 
by shutting Bert up in the yard and not allowing him 
out at all except in charge of somebody. But that was 
precisely what she did not wish to do. She knew well 
enough that her son could not have a locked-up world 
to live in. He must learn to live in this world, full 
of temptations as it is, and so her idea was not so much 
to put him out of the way of temptation, as to teach 


16 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


him how to withstand it. Consequently, she was some- 
what at a loss just what to do in the matter of the 
guardhouse, when a letter that came from the country 
offered a very timely and acceptable solution of the 
difficulty. 


CHAPTER III. 


NO. 5 FORT STREET. 

O UTHBERT LLOYD’S home was a happy one in 
every way. The house was so situated that the 
sunshine might have free play upon it all day, pouring 
in at the rear windows in the morning and flooding 
the front ones with rich and rare splendor at evening. 
A quiet little street passed by the door, the gardens 
opposite being filled with noble trees that cast a grateful 
shade during the dog days. At the rear of the house 
was the old fort, its turfed casemates sloping down to 
a sandy beach, from whose centre a stone wharf pro- 
jected out into the plashing water. Looking over the 
casemates, one could see clear out to the lighthouse 
which kept watch at the entrance to the harbor, and 
could follow the ships as they rose slowly on the hori- 
zon or sped away with favoring breeze. 

A right pleasant house to live in was No. 5 Fort 
Street, and right pleasant were the people who lived 
in it. Cuthbei't certainly had no doubt upon either 
point, and who had a better opportunity of forming an 
opinion ? Mr. Lloyd, the head of the household, was 
also the head of one of the leading legal firms in Hali- 
fax. His son, and perhaps his wife and daughter, 
too, thought him the finest-looking man in the city. 

B n 


18 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


That Avas, no doubt, an extravagant estimate, yet it was 
not Avithout excuse ; for tall, erect, and stahvart, Avitli 
regular features, large brown eyes that looked straight 
•at you, fine whiskers and moustache, and a kindly 
cordial expression, Mr. Lloyd made a very good appear- 
ance in the world. Especially did he, since he never 
forgot the neatness and good taste in dress of his 
bachelor days, as so many married men are apt to do. 

Cuthbert’s mother was of quite a different type. 
Her husband used to joke her about her being good 
for a standard of measurement because she stood just 
five feet in height, and weighed precisely one hundred 
pounds. Bert, one day, seemed to realize Avhat a 
mite of a Avoman she Avas ; for, after looking her all 
over, he said, very gravely : 

What a little mother you are ! I Avill soon be as 
big as you, AAmn’t I ? ” 

BroAvn of hair and eyes, like Mr. Lloyd, her face 
was a rare combination of sweetness and streno^th. 
Bert thought it lovelier than any angel’s he had ever 
seen in a picture. Indeed, there Avas much of the 
angelic in his mother’s nature. She had marvelous 
control over her feelings, and never by any chance 
gave Avay to temper openly, so that in all his young 
life her boy had no remembrance of receiving from 
her a harsh Avord, or a hasty, angry bloAV. Not that 
she Avas weak or indulgent. On the contrary, not 
only Bert, but Bert’s playmates, and some of their 
mothers, too, thought her quite too strict at times, for 


BEUT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


19 


she Avas a firm believer in discipline, and Master Bert 
Avas taught to abide by rules from the outset. 

The third member of the household Avas the only 
daughter, Mary, a tall graceful girl, Avho had inherited 
many of her father’s qualities together Avith her 
mother’s SAveetness. In Bert’s eyes she Avas just 
simply perfect. She was twice as old as he when he 
had six years to his credit, and the difference in age 
made her seem like a second mother to him, except 
that he felt free to take more liberities with her than 
Avith his mother. But she did not mind this much, for 
she was passionately fond of her little brother, and 
was inclined to spoil him, if anything. 

As for Bert himself — well, he was just a stout, sturdy, 
hearty, boy, Avith nothing very remarkable about 
him, unless perhaps it was his superabundant health 
and spirits. Nobody, unless it Aras that most partial 
judge, Mary, thought him handsome, but everybody 
admitted that he Avas good looking in every sense of 
the term. He promised to be neither tall, like his 
father, nor short, like his mother ; but of a handy, ser- 
viceable medium height, with plenty of strength and 
endurance in his tough little frame. Not only were 
both eyes and hair brown, as might be expected, but 
his face, too, as might also be expected, seeing that no 
bounds were placed upon his being out of doors, so 
long as the day was fine, and he himself AA^as keeping 
out of mischief. 

Father, mother, daughter, and son, these four made 


20 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


up a very affectionate and happy family, pulling well 
together ; and so far as the three older ones were con- 
cerned, with their faces and hearts set toward Jerusa- 
lem, and of one mind as to taking Bert along with 
them. Mr. Lloyd and his wife were thoroughly in 
accord with Dr. Austin Phelps as to this : That the 
children of Christians should be Christian from the 
cradle. They accordingly saw no reason why the only 
son that God had given them should ever go out into 
sin, and then be brought back from a far-off land. 
Surely, if they did their duty, he need never stray far 
away. That was the way tliey reasoned ; and although, 
of course, little Bert knew nothing about it, that was 
the plan upon which they sought to bring him up. 
The task was not altogether an easy one, as succeeding 
chapters of Bert’s history will make plain. But the 
plan was adhered to and the result justified its wisdom. 


CHAPTER lY. 


OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 

T he letter which came in such good time to relieve 
Mrs. Lloyd from the difficulty about Berf s fond- 
ness for the guardroom, and its hurtful influences, was 
from her father, and contained an invitation so press- 
ing as to be little short of a demand, for her to pay 
him a long visit at the old homestead, bringing Bert 
with her. 

Mrs. Lloyd very readily and gladly accepted the 
invitation. Midsummer was near at hand. She had 
not visited her old home for some years. Her father 
and mother were aging fast ; and then, naturally 
enough, she was eager to show them what a fine boy 
Bert was growing to be. 

When Bert heard of it, he showed the utmost de- 
light. Three years before he had spent a summer at 
grandfather’s, but then, of course, he was too young to 
do more than be impressed by the novelty of his 
surroundings. The huge oxen, the noisy pigs, the 
spirited horses, even the clumsy little calves, be- 
wildered, if they did not alarm him. But now he felt 
old enough to enjoy them all ; and the very idea of 
going back to them filled him with joy, to which he 
gave expression after his own boisterous fashion. 

21 


22 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Mother, are we going to grandfather’s to-morrow ? ” 
he would eagerly ask, day after day, his little heart 
throbbing with impatience. 

We’re going soon, Bert dear. You must be 
patient, you know,” his mother would gently reply; 
and the little fellow would make a very heroic effort 
to control himself. 

At length the day of departure arrived. Too full 
of importance and great expectations to manifest a 
proper amount of sorrow at leaving his father and 
sister, who felt very reluctant, indeed, to part with 
him. Master Bert took his place in the cab and drove 
up to the railway station. Hardly had he entered it 
than he made a dash for the train, climbed up on the 
rear platform with the agility of a monkey, much to 
the amusement of the conductor, whose proffer of 
assistance he entirely ignored; and when Mr. Bloyd 
entered the car, a minute later, he found his enter- 
prising son seated comfortably upon a central seat, 
and evidently quite ready for the train to start. 

Would you go away without saying good-bye to 
your father and to Mary?” asked Mr. Lloyd, in a 
deeply reproachful tone. 

Bert blushed violently on being thus reminded of 
his apparent selfishness, and, with the threat of a tear 
in his eye, was about to make some sort of a defense, 
when his father put him all right again by saying, 
brightly ; 

“ Never mind, my boy. It isn’t every day you go 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


23 


off on a hundred-and-fifty-miles journey. Mary and 
I will forgive you for forgetting us this time, won’t we, 
Mary ? ” 

The lunch basket, the wraps, and their other belong- 
ings were placed on the seat, the engine whistled, all 
aboard,” the bell rang, the conductor shouted, affec- 
tionate farewells were hastily exchanged, and presently 
the train rolled noisily out of the dark station into the 
bright sunshine ; and Bert, leaning from the window, 
caught a last glimpse of his father and sister as they 
stood waving the handkerchiefs which one of them, at 
least, could not refrain from putting to another use, as 
the last car swept round the turn and vanished. 

But Bert was in no mood for tears. In fact, he 
never felt less like anything of the kind. He felt 
much more disposed to shout aloud for very joy, and 
probably would have done so, but for the restraining 
influence exercised by the presence of the other pas- 
sengers, of whom there were a good many in the car. 
As it was, he gave vent to his excited feelings by being 
as restless as a mosquito, and asking his mother as 
many questions as his active brain could invent. 

You’ll be tired out by mid-day, Bert, if you go 
on at this rate, ” said his mother, in gentle warning. 

Oh, no, I won’t, mother ; I won’t get tired. See ! 
What’s that funny big thing with the long legs in that 
field?” 

That’s a frame for a hay stack, I think. You’ll 
see plenty of those at grandfather’s. ” 


24 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


And what’s that queer thing with arms sticking 
out from tliat building ? ” 

That’s a wind mill. When the wind blows hard 
those arms go round, and turn machinery inside the 
barn.” 

And has grandpapa got a wind mill, mother ?” 

“ Yes ; he has one on his big barn. ” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ; I can watch it going round, and 
stand quite close, can’t I?” 

Yes, but take care not to go too close to the ma- 
chinery. It might hurt you very much, you know.” 

And so it went on all through the morning. Mrs. 
Lloyd would have liked very much to read a little in 
an interesting book she had brought with her, but 
what with watching Bert’s restless movements, and 
answering his incessant questions, there seemed slight 
hope of her succeeding in this until, after they had 
been a couple of hours on their journey, a good- 
natured gentleman on the opposite seat, who had fin- 
ished his paper, and had nothing particular to do, took 
in the situation and came to her relief. 

Won’t you come over and keep me company for 
a while, my little man ? ” he said, pleasantly, leaning 
across the aisle. ^‘I will try and answer all your 
questions for you. ” 

Bert looked curiously at the speaker, and then, the 
inspection proving satisfactory, inquiringly at his 
mother. She nodded her assent, so forthwith he ran 
over to his new friend, and climbed up beside him. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


25 


He was given the corner next the window, and while 
his bright eyes took in everything as the train sped on, 
his tongue wagged no less swiftly as question followed 
question in quick succession. Mrs. Lloyd, thoroughly 
at ease now, returned to her book with a grateful sigh 
of relief, and an hour slipped away, at the end of 
which Bert’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. He no 
longer was interested in the scenery ; and at last, after 
a gallant struggle, his curly head fell over on the 
cushion, and he went into a deep sleep, from which he 
did not waken until at mid-day the train drew up at 
the station, beyond which they could not go by rail. 

Come, Bert, wake up ! We must get out here,” 
cried his mother, shaking him vigorously. 

Rubbing his eyes hard, yawning as though he 
would put his jaws out of joint, and feeling very un- 
comfortable generally, Bert nevertheless managed to 
pull himself together sufficiently to thank the gentle- 
man who had been so kind to him before he followed 
his mother out of the car. 

They had dinner at Thurso, and by the time it was 
ready Bert was ready too. He had been altogether 
too much excited at breakfast time to eat much then, 
but he made up for it now. Mrs. Lloyd laughed as 
he asked again and again for more, but she did not 
check him. She knew very well that the contented 
frame of mind produced by a good dinner was just 
the right thing with which to enter upon the second 
part of their journey. This was to be by coach, and 


26 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


as even the best of coaches is a pretty cramped sort of 
an affair unless you have it all to yourself, the quieter 
Bert was disposed to be the better for all concerned. 

What are we to ride in now, mother?” asked Bert, 
after the vacancy underneath his blue blouse had been 
sufficiently filled to dispose him to conversation. 

In a big red coach, dear, with six fine horses to 
draw us, ” answered Mrs. Lloyd. 

Oh, mother, won’t that be splendid? And may I 
sit up with the driver?” 

Perhaps you may, for a little while, anyway, if he 
will let you. ” 

Hooray ! ” cried Bert, clapping his hands with 
delight ; I’m sure the driver will let me, if you’ll 
only ask him. You will, won’t you, mother?” 

‘‘ Yes, I will, after we get out of the town. But 
you must wait until I think it’s the right time to 
ask him.” 

I’ll wait, mother, but don’t you forget.” 

Forget ! There was much likelihood of Mrs. Lloyd 
forgetting with this lively young monkey before her 
as a constant reminder. 

They had just finished dinner, when, with clatter of 
hoofs, rattle of springs, and crush of gravel under the 
heavy wheels, the great Concord coach drew up before 
the hotel door in dashing style. 

Bert was one of the first to greet it. He did not 
even wait to put on his hat, and his mother, following 
with it, found him in the forefront of the crowd that 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


27 


always gathers about the mail coach in a country 
town, gazing up at the driver, who sat in superb 
dignity upon his lofty seat, as though he had never 
beheld so exalted a being in his life before. 

There was something so impassive, so indifferent to 
his surroundings, about this big, bronzed, black-mous- 
tached, and broad-hatted driver, that poor Bert’s 
heart sank within him. He felt perfectly sure that 
Ae could never in the world muster up sufficient courage 
to beg for the privilege of a seat beside so impressive 
a potentate, and he doubted if his mother could, either. 

Among the passengers Bert was glad to see the 
gentleman who had befriended him on the cars, 
and when this individual, after having the audacity 
to hail the driver familiarly with, Good-morning, 
Jack ; looks as if we were going to have a pleasant 
trip down,” sprang up on the wheel, and thence to 
the vacant place beside Jack Davis, just as though it 
belonged to him of right, a ray of hope stole into 
Bert’s heart. If his friend of the cars, whose name, 
by the way, he told Bert, was Mr. Miller, was on such 
good terms with the driver, perhaps he would ask 
him to let a little boy sit up in front for a while. 

Taking much comfort from this thought, Bert, at a 
call from his mother, who was already seated, climbed 
up into the coach, and being allowed the corner next 
the window, with head thrust forth as far as was safe, 
he awaited eagerly the signal to start. 


CHAPTER y. 


THE EIDE IN THE COACH. 

T he last passenger had taken his seat, the last 
trunk been strapped on behind, and the canvas 
covering drawn tightly over it, the mail bags safely 
stowed away in the capacious boot ; and then big Jack 
Davis, gathering the reins of his six impatient steeds 
skillfully into one hand, and grasping the long-lashed 
whip in the other, sang out to the men who stood at 
the leaders’ heads : 

Let them go ! ” 

The men dropped the bridles and sprang aside, the 
long lash cracked like a pistol shot, the leaders, a 
beautiful pair of gray ponies, perfectly matched, reared, 
curvetted, pranced about, and then would have dashed 
off at a wild gallop had not Jack Davis’ strong hands, 
aided by the steadiness of the staider wheelers, kept 
them in check ; and soon brought down to a spirited 
canter, they led the way out of the town. 

Tlie coach had a heavy load. It could hold twelve 
passengers inside, and every seat was occupied on top. 
Besides Mr. Miller, who had the coveted box seat, there 
were two other men perched upon the coach top, and 
making the best of their uncomfortable position j and 
there was an extra amount of baggage. 

28 


BERT Lloyd's boyhood. 


29 


Plenty of work for my horses to-day, Mr. Miller, 
said Jack Davis, looking carefully over the harness- 
ing to make sure that every strap was securely buckled, 
aud every part in its right place. 

Yes, indeed ; you’ll need to keep the brake on hard 
going down the hills, ” replied Mr. Miller. 

Bending over, so that those behind could not hear 
him, the driver said, under his breath : 

Don’t say anything ; but, to tell the truth, I’m a 
little shaky about my brake. It is none too strong, 
and I won’t go out with it again until it’s fixed; but it 
can’t be mended this side of Biverton, and I’m going 
to push through as best I can. ” 

Well, if anything happens, just let us know when 
to jump, ” returned Mr. Miller, with a reassuring 
smile, for he felt no anxiety, having perfect confidence 
in Davis’ ability to bring his coach safely to the jour- 
ney’s end. 

It was a lovely summer day, and in the early after- 
noon the coach bowled smoothly along over the well- 
kept road, now rolling over a wooden bridge on 
whose timbers the rapid tramp of the horses’ feet 
sounded like thunder, climbing the slope on the other 
side, then rattling down into the valley, and up the 
opposite hill, almost at full speed, and so on in rapid 
succession. Bert, kneeling at the window, with arms 
resting on the ledge, and just able to see the three 
horses on his side, was so engrossed in watching them, 
or peering into the forest through which the road cut 


30 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


its way, that he quite forgot his desire to be up on top 
of the coach. 

Having gone fifteen miles at a spanking pace, the 
coach drove into a long-covered barn for the horses to 
be changed, and everybody got out to stretch their 
legs ; while this was being done, Bert’s longing came 
back in full force. As he stood watching the tired 
foam-flecked horses being led away, and others, sleek, 
shining, and spirited put in their places, who should 
pass by but Mr. Miller. Kecognizing at once his little 
acquaintance of the morning, he greeted him with a 
cheery : 

Hallo! my little man, are we fellow travelers 
still ? And how do you like riding in a coach ? ” 

I think it’s just splendid, sir,” replied Bert ; and 
then, as a bright thought flashed into his mind, — ^^but 
I do so want to be up where the driver is. ” 

Mr. Miller looked down at the little face turned 
up to his, and noting its eager expression asked, 
kindly ; 

Do you think your motlier would let you go up 
there?” 

Oh, yes ; she said I might if I would only wait a 
little, and it is a good deal more than a little while 
now. ” 

Very well, Bert, you run and ask her if you may 
get up now, and I’ll try and manage it, ” said Mr. 
Miller. 

Bert was not long in getting his mother’s sanction. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 31 

and when he returned with beaming face, Mr. Miller 
taking him up to Jack Davis, said : 

Jack, this little chap is dying to sit up with us. 
He wants to see how the best driver in Acadia handles 
his horses, I suppose.” 

There was no resisting such an appeal as this. 
Tickled with the compliment. Jack said, graciously: 

All right, Mr. Miller, you can chuck him up, so 
long as you’ll look after him yourself.” 

And so when the fresh horses were harnessed, and 
the passengers back in their places, behold Cuthbert 
Lloyd, the proudest, happiest boy in all the land, 
perched up between the driver and Mr. Miller, feeling 
himself as much monarch of all he surveyed, as ever 
did Robinson Crusoe in his island home. It was little 
wonder if for the first mile or two he was too happy 
to ask any questions. It was quite enough from his 
lofty, but secure position, to watch the movements of 
the six handsome horses beneath him as, tossing their 
heads, and making feigned nips at one another, they 
trotted along with the heavy coach as though it were 
a mere trifle. The road ran through a very pretty 
district ; well-cultivated farms, making frequent gaps 
in the forest, and many a brook and river lending va- 
riety to the scene. After Bert had grown accustomed 
to the novelty of his position, his tongue began to wag 
again, and his bright, innocent questions afforded Mr. 
Miller so much amusement, that with Jack Davis’ full 
approval, he was invited to remain during the next 


32 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


stage also. Mrs. Lloyd would rather have had him 
with her inside, but he pleaded so earnestly, and Mr. 
Miller assuring her that he was not the least trouble, 
she finally consented to his staying up until they 
changed horses again. 

When they were changing horses at this post, Mr. 
Miller drew Bert’s attention to a powerfiiL black horse 
one of the men was carefully leading out of the stable. 
All the other horses came from their stalls fully har- 
nessed, but this one had on nothing except a bridle. 

“See how that horse carries on, Bert,” said Mr. 
Miller. 

And, sure enough, the big brute was prancing 
about with ears bent back and teeth showing in a 
most threatening fashion. 

“ They daren’t harness that horse until he is in his 
place beside the pole, Bert. See, now, they’re going 
to put the harness on him.” 

And as he spoke another stable hand came up, 
deftly threw the heavy harness over the horse’s back, 
and set to work to buckle it with a speed that showed 
it was a job he did not care to dally over. No sooner 
was it accomplished than the other horses were hastily 
put in their places, the black wheeler in the mean- 
time tramping upon the barn floor in a seeming frenzy 
of impatience, although his head was tightly held. 

“Now, then, all aboard as quick as you can,” 
shouted Jack Davis, swinging himself into his seat. 
Mr. Miller handed up Bert and followed himself, the 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


33 


inside passengers scrambled hurriedly in, and then 
with a sharp whinny the black wheeler, his head 
being released, started off, almost pulling the whole 
load himself. 

Black Bory does not seem to get over his bad 
habits. Jack,” remarked Mr. Miller. 

No,” replied Jack ; quite the other way. He’s 
getting worse, if anything; but he’s too good a horse 
to chuck over. There’s not a better wheeler on the 
route than Rory, once he settles down to his work.” 

After going a couple of miles, during which Rory 
behaved about as badly as a wheeler could, he did 
settle down quietly to his work and all went smoothly. 
They were among the hills now, and the steep ascents 
and descents, sharp turns and many bridges over the 
gullies made it necessary for Davis to drive with the 
utmost care. At length they reached the summit of 
the long slope and began the descent into the valley. 

‘‘I’d just as soon I hadn’t any doubts about this 
brake,” said Davis to Mr. Miller, as he put his foot 
hard down upon it. 

“Oh, it’ll hold all right enough. Jack,” replied 
Mr. Miller, reassuringly. 

“ Hope so,” said Davis. “ If it doesn’t, we’ll have 
to run for it to the bottom.” 

The road slanted steadily downward, and with 
brake held hard and wheelers spread out from the 
pole holding back with all their strength, the heavy 
coach lumbered cautiously down. Now it was that 
c 


34 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Black Rory proved his worth, for, thoroughly under- 
standing what was needed of him, he threw his whole 
weight and strength back upon the pole, keeping his 
own mate no less than the leaders in check. 

We’ll be at Brown’s Gully in a couple of min- 
utes,” said the driver. Once we get past there, all 
right ; the rest won’t matter.” 

Brown’s Gully was the ugliest bit of road on the 
whole route. A steep hill, along the side of which 
the road wound at a sharp slant, led down to a deep, 
dark gully crossed by a high trestle bridge. Just 
before the bridge there was a sudden turn which 
required no common skill to safely round when going 
at speed. 

As they reached the beginning of the slant. Jack 
Davis’ face took on an anxious look, his mouth be- 
came firm and set, his hand tightened upon the reins, 
and his foot upon the brake, and with constant ex- 
clamation to his horses of Easy, now ! — go easy ! — 
hold back, my beauties ! ” he guided the great coach 
in its descent. 

Mr. Miller put Bert between his knees, saying : 

“Stick right there, my boy; don’t budge an 
inch.” 

Although the wheelers, and particularly Black Rory, 
were doing their best, the coach began to go faster 
than Davis liked, and with a shout of “ Whoa there ! 
Go easy, will you ! ” he had just shoved his foot still 
harder against the brake, when there was a sharp 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


35 


crack, and the huge vehicle suddenly sprang forward 
upon the wheelers’ heels. 

God help us ! ” cried Jack, the brake’s gone. 
We’ve got to run for it now.” 

And run for it they did. 

It was a time of great peril. Mr. Miller clung 
tightly to the seat, and Bert shrank back between his 
knees. Davis, with feet braced against the dash- 
board and reins gathered close in his hands, put forth 
all his great strength to control the horses, now flying 
over the narrow road at a wild gallop. Brown’s 
Gully, already sombre with the shadows of evening, 
showed dark and deep before them. Just around that 
corner was the bridge. Were they to meet another 
carriage there, it would mean destruction to both. 
Davis well knew this, and gave a gasp of relief when 
they swung round the corner and saw that the road 
was clear. If they could only hit the bridge, all right : 
the danger would be passed. 

Now, Kory, now,^^ shouted Davis, giving a tremen- 
dous tug at the horse’s left rein, and leaning far over 
in that direction himself. 

Mr. Miller shut his eyes ; the peril seemed too great 
to be gazed upon. If they missed the bridge, they 
must go headlong into the gully. Another moment 
and it w^as all over. 

As the coach swung round the corner into the 
straight road beyond, its impetus carried it almost 
over the edge, but not quite. With a splendid effort, 


36 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


the great black wheeler drew it over to the left. The 
front wheels kept the track, and although the hind 
wheels struck the side rail of the bridge with a crash 
and a jerk that well nigh hurled Bert out upon the 
horses’ backs, and the big coach leaned far over to the 
right, it shot back into the road again, and went 
thundering over the trembling bridge uninjured. 

Thank God ! ” exclaimed Mr. Miller, fervently, 
when the danger was passed. 

Amen ! ” responded Jack Davis. 

I knew he would help us,” added Bert 

‘‘Knew who would, Bert?” inquired Mr. Miller, 
bending over him tenderly, while something very like 
a tear glistened in his eye. 

“ I knew God would take care of us,” replied Bert, 
promptly. “ The driver asked him to ; and didn’t 
you ask him, too?” 

“ I did,” said Mr. Miller, adding, with a sigh, “ but 
I’m afraid I had not much right to expect him to 
hear me.” 

They had no further difficulties. The road ran 
smoothly along the rest of the way, and shortly after 
sundown the coach, with great noise and clatter, drove 
into the village of Riverton, where grandpapa was to 
meet Mrs. Lloyd and Bert, and take them home in his 
own carriage. 


CHAPTER yi. 

AT grandfather’s. 

*jr^ASILY distinguished in the crowd gathered to 
-Li welcome the coach, whose arrival was always the 
event of the evening, was Bert’s grandfather, ’Squire 
Stewart, a tyjncal old Scotchman, from every point of 
view. As the passengers got out, he stood watching 
them in silent dignity, until Mrs. Lloyd, catching 
sight of him, ran impulsively up, and taking his face 
between her two hands, gave him a warm kiss on each 
cheek, saying : 

Dear father, I’m so glad to see you looking so 
well.” 

^^And I’m well pleased to see you, Kate,” re- 
sponded the ’Squire, in a tone of deep affection, ad- 
ding : And is this your boy ? ” as Bert, who in the 
mean time had been lifted down from his place, came 
to his mother’s side. 

He’s a fine big boy, and not ill-looking, either. I 
trust his manners have not been neglected. ” 

You’ll have to judge of that for yourself, father,” 
replied Mrs. Lloyd. He’s by no means perfect, but 
he’s pretty good, upon the whole. ” 

^^Well, daughter. I’ll go and get the wagon, if 

37 


38 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


you’ll just wait here a moment, ” said Mr. Stewart, 
going olf toward the stables. 

Presently he returned, driving a double wagon with 
a fine span of well-matched bays, which, old man 
though he was, he held in complete control. 

“We won’t mind the trunks now, Kate ; I will send 
in for them in the morning, said he, as he helped 
them into their seats. 

Maplebank, ’Squire Stewart’s place, was situated 
about four miles from Kiverton, and on the way out 
father and daughter had much to say to one another. 
As for Bert, he sat in silence on his seat. He felt 
very much awed by his grandfather. There was 
something so stern and severe about his time-worn 
countenance, he seemed so stiff in his bearing, and his 
voice had such a deep, rough tone in it, that, to tell the 
truth, Bert began to feel half sorry he had come. 
But this feeling disappeared entirely when, on arriving 
at Maplebank, he found himself in the arms of Aunt 
Sarah before he had time to jump out of the wagon, 
and was then passed over to his grandmother, who 
nearly smothered him with kisses. 

If his grandfather filled him with awe, his grand- 
mother inspired him with love, from the very start. 
And no wonder, indeed, for she was the very poetry 
of a grandmother. A small woman, with slender 
frame, already stooping somewhat beneath the burden 
of years, her snow-white hair and spotless cap 
framed one of the sweetest faces that ever beamed on 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


39 


this earth. Bert gave her his whole heart at once, and 
during all the days he spent at Maplebank she was 
his best loved friend. 

Yet he did not fail to be very fond of his two 
aunts, likewise. With an uncle, who remained at 
home, assisting his father in the management of the 
property, they comprised the household, and the three 
apparently conspired to do their best to spoil Master 
Bert during that summer. Bert took very kindly to 
the spoiling, too, and under the circumstances it was 
a wonder he did not return to Halifax quite de- 
moralized, as regards domestic discipline. But of this 
farther. 

They were a merry party sitting down to tea that 
evening, and Bert, having appeased his hunger and 
found his tongue, amused them all very much by his 
account of what he had seen from the coach top. The 
narrow escape they had had at Brown’s Gully was of 
course much discussed. ’Squire Stewart had nothing 
but censure for the driver. 

The man bad no business to go out with anything 
likely to break. Better for you to have waited a day 
than run any such risks. I shall certainly bring the 
matter to the attention of Mr. Lindsay,” he said. 

Nobody ventured to say anything to the contrary ; 
but Bert, who was sitting by his mother, turned an 
anxious face up to hers, and whispered : Grandpapa 
won’t hurt Mr. Davis, will he? He was so good to 
me, and he asked God to save us ; and he did.” 


40 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


It will be all right, dear,” his mother whispered 
back. Don’t worry yourself about it.” And 
Bert, reassured, said nothing more. 

Bed time for him soon came, and then, to his great 
delight, he found that instead of being banished to a 
room somewhere away up stairs, he was to be put in a 
curious bed, that filled a corner of the parlor in which 
the family sat. Bert had never seen anything like 
that bed before. It looked just like a closet, but 
when you opened the closet door, behold, there was a 
bed, and a very comfortable one, too. . J ust behind 
the parlor, with a door between, was the best bed- 
room, which his mother would have, and there Bert 
undressed, returning in his night gown to say good- 
night to all before tumbling into bed. 

With the closet door wide open, he could see every- 
thing that went on in the room ; and it was so de- 
lightful to lie there watching the family reading or 
talking, until, at last, sleep came to claim him. 

‘^Now, if you’re a good boy, and don’t attempt to 
talk after your head’s on the pillow. I’ll leave the 
door open, so you can see us all,” said Aunt Sarah, as 
she tucked Bert snugly in ; and he had sense enough 
to be a good boy, so that not a sound came from him 
ere his brown eyes closed for the night. 

Many a night after that did he lie there luxuriously, 
watching his grandfather reading the newspaper, with 
a candle placed between his face and the paper, in 
such close proximity to both, that Bert’s constant 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


41 


wonder was that one or the other of them never got 
burned ; his grandmother, whose eyes no longer per- 
mitted her to read at night, knitting busily in her arm 
chair, or nodding over her needles; Aunt Sarah, 
reading in the book that always lay at hand for leisure 
moments; Aunt Martha, stitching away, perhaps on 
some of his own torn garments ; his mother writing 
home to Mr. Lloyd, or to Mary ; while from the 
kitchen, outside, came the subdued sound of the ser- 
vants’ voices, as they chattered over their tasks. Bert 
thought it a lovely way to go to sleep, and often after- 
ward, when at home, going up alone to bed in his 
own room, wished that he was back at grandfather’s 
again. 

Bert slept late the next morning, for he was a very 
tired boy when he went to bed ; and for this once, he 
was indulged. But as he entered the dining room, 
his grandfather, who had finished breakfast a full 
hour before, looking at him with that stern expression 
which was habitual to him, said : 

City boys must keep country hours when they 
come to the country. Early to bed, early to rise, is 
the rule of this house, my boy.” 

Poor Bert was rather disconcerted by this reception, 
but managed to say : 

^^All rights grandpapa. I’ll try,” as he took his 
seat. 

The day was full of novelty and delight to the city 
boy, as, under Uncle Alec’s guidance, he went about 


42 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


the farm, and visited the horses in the stable, the 
cattle in the pasture, the pigs in the stye ; and then, 
with Aunt Martha, inspected the dairy, a big cool 
room in a small building, well shaded by trees, where 
long rows of shallow pans stood filled with rich milk 
or golden cream ; while just before tea. Aunt Sarah 
claimed him for a walk in the garden, where tiger 
lilies, hollyhocks, mock oranges, peonies, and other 
old-fashioned flowers grew in gay profusion. 

Grandmother was too much engrossed with her 
daughter to pay much attention to Bert that day. 
Yet he had more than one token of affection at 
her hands; and, taken altogether, it was a very happy 
day. 

After tea, Mrs. Lloyd took her son off for a little 
chat alone, wishing to draw him out as to his first 
impressions. 

Have you had a happy day, Bert?” she asked. 

Yes, indeed, mother. It has been just splendid. 
I think grandmmama and uncle and my aunties are 
lovely, but ” — and here Bert hesitated as if afraid to 
finish his remark. 

^^But what, Bert?” asked Mrs. Lloyd. “What 
were you going to say when you stopped ? ” 

“ I don’t like grandpapa, mother,” said Bert, after 
a little pause, bringing the words out slowly, and 
then adding, almost in a whisper, “I’m afraid of 
grandpapa, mother.” 

“ Hush, Bert. You shouldn’t say that you don’t 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


43 


like your grandfather. But, tell me^ why are you 
afraid of him ?” 

Oh, because he seems so cross, and isn’t kind to 
me like the others.” 

‘‘But he isn’t really cross, Bert. He loves you 
quite as much as the others do, but then he is an old 
man and has a great deal to think about. Now, Bert 
darling, I want you to learn to love your grandpapa, 
and to try and never be any bother to him. You 
will, won’t you ?” 

“ I’ll try not to be a bother to him, mother, but I 
don’t think it’s much use my trying to love him un- 
less he stops looking so cross.” 

“Well, try your best,, at all events, Bert,” said 
Mrs. Lloyd, giving her son a tender kiss. “And 
now come, let’s see if we can find grandmother.” 


CHAPTER YII. 


COUNTRY EXPERIENCES. 

B ert had come to Maplebank just in time for the 
haying season. The long slopes of upland and 
the level stretches of intervale waved before the breeze 
their russet and green wealth, awaiting the summons 
of the scythe and reaper. A number of extra hands 
had been hired to help in gathering the crop, which 
this year was unusually abundant, and a few days 
after Bert's coming the attack was begun. 

The mowing machine had not yet reached Maple- 
bank. The papers were talking about it a good deal, 
but ’Squire Stewart was not the man to quickly adopt 
new inventions, and nobody else in the neighborhood 
could afford to do so. Consequently, the West River 
Valley still continued to witness the good, old-fash- 
ioned way of mowing with the scythe; and Bert, 
accompanying Uncle Alec to the field, was filled with 
admiration for the stalwart Rorys,” and Donalds,” 
and Sandys ” as they strode along through the thick 
grass, cutting a wide swath before them. There was 
something in the work that appealed to the boy’s 
bump of destructiveness, and filled him with eagerness 
to join in it. 

‘^Oh, Uncle Alec, mayn’t I mow?” he asked. 

44 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


45 


Certainly, Bert, if you know how ; but if you 
don’t, I wouldn’t advise you to try it,” was the smiling 
reply. 

Not at all discouraged, Bert waited patiently until 
one of the mowers stopped to sharpen his scythe, and 
then stepping to him, asked, in his most engaging 
way : 

‘^Please, sir, won’t you let me mow a little?” 

The man looked down at him in surprise. 

You couldn’t hold a scythe, sonny,” he said, with 
a grin of amusement. 

Oh, yes, I could. Please let me try ; won’t 
you?” pleaded Bert. 

The man yielded, and placing his scythe in Bert’s 
hands, told him to go ahead. 

With much difficulty Bert succeeded in grasping 
the two short handles which projected from the long 
curved snath, and, summoning all his strength, he 
tried to move the scythe in the way the mowers were 
doing. But at the first attempt the sharp point stuck 
in the turf, and instantly the long handle flew up, 
turned over, and hit him a hard crack, square between 
the eyes, that felled him to the ground. 

The stars were dancing before his eyes, and the 
next moment the tears would have been there too, 
had he not, as he picked himself up, caught sight of 
the men laughing heartily over his mishap. 

They shan’t see me cry,” said he to himself; and, 
putting forth a heroic effort, he swallowed his tears, 


46 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


though the gulping them down was positively painful, 
and, standing up straight, looked bravely about him. 
Uncle Alec saw it all and understood iust how Bert 
felt. 

Well done, my little hero,’’ said he, clapping him 
on the back. “ You have the right stuff in you.” 

‘^That he has, sir,” said Big Sandy, with an admir- 
ing look. “ He would make a right good laddie for 
the farm.” 

Bert’s heart was filled with joy at these praises, and 
he determined that nobody on the farm should ever 
see him cry, unless he really couldn’t at all help it. 

The scythe handle gave him quite an ugly bruise, 
which caused many a question when he went back to 
the house ; and Aunt Sarah, who was as nervous as 
she was loving and sympathetic, made much ado over 
it, and insisted on a bandage, which made Bert look 
like a little soldier who had been in action. Mrs. 
Lloyd took tiie matter much more quietly. She knew 
her son had to get his share of bumps and bruises, 
and that each one would bring wisdom with it; so 
she contented herself with a kiss of sympathy, and the 
hope that he would have better fortune next time. 

The succeeding days were full of surprises and 
enjoyments to Bert. 

■ His mother gave him full liberty to go and come as 
he pleased, so long as he did not roam beyond the 
borders of the homestead, except wlien with Uncle 
Alec. The hay mows, the carriage loft, the sheep 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


47 


pens, the cattle stalls, were all explored ; and ever so 
many cosy little nooks discovered, that seemed just 
made for hide and seek ” or ‘‘ I spy.” ’Squire 
Stewart had three barns on his homestead ; one very 
large double barn, and two smaller ones. Each of 
these had its own attractions ; but the big barn, that 
stood to your left, half way between the red gate and 
the house, was the best of all. It contained great hay 
mows, in which vast quantities of hay could be stored ; 
a row of stalls, where the horses stood when not out 
at pasture ; queer dark pens, into which the sheep 
'were gathered at winter time; and then, down under- 
neath, great ranges of uprights, between which the 
patient cattle were fastened, and fed with hay, in the 
months when the snow lay deep upon their accustomed 
pastures. There was an air of shadowy mystery about 
this huge, rambling structure, with its lichen-patched 
roof, that fascinated Bert, and that even the saucy 
chirpings of the sparrows, which boldly built their 
nests in its dusty corners, could not dispel. 

Bert often wished that his city playmates could 
come and share with him the enjoyments of grand- 
father’s.” He was not without companions, however. 
Cameron, the big blacksmith at the cross-roads, had 
three freckle-faced boys that were very glad to play 
with the little gentleman at ’Squire Stewart’s, when 
they could get away from the numerous chores they 
Avere required to do at home; and other playmates 
soon turned up. Bert was at first not very much 


48 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


inclined to be sociable with them. Not only did they 
seem to have no shoes and stockings, but their entire 
clothing was usually limited to a battered straw hat, 
an unbleached cotton shirt, and a pair of rough home- 
spun trousers ; and the city boy was inclined to look 
upon the country lads with some contempt, until his 
Aunt Martha cured him effectually one day by a 
remark made in a quiet way. 

Bert had been making some unflattering comments 
upon the barefooted youngsters, when Aunt Martha 
interrupted him. 

You had better not make fun of those boys, Bert,” 
said she, with a curious smile. They may look as 
though they were poor, but remember that their 
fathers have all of them their own carriage and horses, 
and your father has not.” 

Bert saw the point at once, and never again ven- 
tured to ridicule boys who were the sons of ‘^real 
carriage folk.” Not only so, but he began at once to 
feel a respect for them, which wrought such a change 
in his bearincr toward them, that they, who were not 
at all favorably impressed at first, changed their minds 
and decided that he was a right smart little fellow.” 

It was while playing hide and seek ” in the big 
barn, with half-a-dozen of these youngsters, that Bert 
had a narrow escape from serious injury, if not, in- 
deed, from death. The great, gaping mows were 
being filled with hay, which was pitched in any wav, 
and not, of course, packed firmly. Consequently, it 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


49 


was in some places like snow upon the Alpine slopes — 
ready to fall in an avalanche, at the slightest tempta- 
tion. 

In endeavoring to reach a far corner of the barn, 
where he felt sure no one could possibly find him, 
Bert tried to cross a hill of hay, that had piled up in 
one division of the mow. His hasty movements were 
just what was needed to bring the whole mass toppling 
down in confusion to the bottom of the mow. Un- 
fortunately for him, he was involved in the over- 
throw, and without a moment’s warning was buried 
beneath a huge mass of hay. As he went sliding 
helplessly down, he uttered a cry of terror, which 
startled little Rory Chisholm, who sprang out from his 
hiding place, just in time to see poor Bert disappear. 

Hi ! Hi ! boys — come here ; Bert Lloyd’s under 
the hay.” 

The boys quickly gathered, and with eager hands 
set to work, to rescue their imperiled playmate. 
But, vigorously though they toiled, it was slow prog- 
ress they made ; and in the mean time the little fellow, 
pressed upon by many hundred weight of hay, was 
fast loosing breath and consciousness. He could hear 
them very indistinctly, but could not make a sound 
himself. 

By a fortunate accident, one of the men happened 
along, just as the boys were near giving up the task 
as too great for them. 

Donald ! Donald ! Quick ! Bert Lloyd’s under 
D 


50 


BERT LEOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


the hay. Dig him out, or he^ll die, cried Rory, at 
the top of his voice. 

Seizing a pitchfork, Donald attacked the hay like a 
giant, getting more and more careful as he drew 
near the bottom of the mow, until at last, with a 
shout of Fve got him,’^ he stooped down, and 
dragged the senseless form of Bert from the very bot- 
tom of the pile. Taking him in his arms, he ran with 
him to the house, and gave Aunt Sarah a great fright, 
by suddenly plumping him into her lap, as she sat on 
the veranda reading, saying, breathlessly ; 

Here, miss, bring him to, and he’ll be none the 
worse for it.” 

Aunt Sarah screamed for hartshorne, spirits of 
wine, and the dear knows what, but Mrs. Lloyd, 
bringing a glass of water, dashed it freely over her 
boy’s pale face, and in a minute or two he opened his 
eyes again. As Donald said, he was none the worse 
for his experience, for no bones were broken, nor 
muscles strained ; yet all felt thankful that he had 
escaped so well. 

It was not long after this that Bert had another 
adventure, which also came near costing him his life. 
He was not only very fond of water, but as fearless 
about it as a Newfoundland puppy. The blue sea, 
calm as a mirror or flecked with white caps, ” 
formed part of his earliest recollections. He would 
play at its margin all day long, building forts out of 
sand, for the advancing billows of the tide to storm 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


51 


and overwhelm. He was never happier than when 
gliding over it in his father’s skiff. It was the last 
thing in nature he looked upon before lying down at 
night, and the first thing to which he turned on awak- 
ing in the morning. Thus he got so used to the 
great salt sea, that when he came to Maplebank and 
looked at the quiet stream, which glided along so noise- 
lessly at the bottom of the slope before the house, he 
thought it a mere plaything, and could hardly be 
made to understand that, innocent as the river ap- 
peared, there was water enough in it to drown liim 
ten times over. 

One day some of the village folk came out to spend 
the day at Maplebank, and the weather being decid- 
edly warm, Uncle Alec proposed that the men of the 
party should go with him for a bathe. They gladly 
assented, and Bert having begged to accompany them 
was given leave to do so. Uncle Alec took them to a 
lovely spot for a bath — a tempting nook in which 
one might almost have expected to surprise a water 
nymph or two, if you drew near quietly enough. On 
one side, the bank rose high and steep, affording per- 
fect seclusion ; a narrow beach of gravel made a fine 
place for undressing. The river rolled gently along 
with plenty of depth, and beyond it was another 
beach, and then the swelling intervale. 

Amid much laughter and excitement, the men un- 
dressed, Uncle Alec allowing Bert to do the same, 
as he had promised to carry him across the river 


52 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


ou his back. So soon as they were ready the bathers 
dived in; and, with much splashing and noise, swam 
races to the opposite bank, leaving Bert alone upon 
the shore. Skylarking with one another there they 
quite forgot their little companion until Uncle Alec 
looking across, gave a start, and cried out: 

Hallo! What’s become of the boy?” 

Not a sign of Bert was to be seen. His little pile 
of clothes with hat placed carefully on top was plain 
enough, but no Bert. Full of anxiety. Uncle Alec 
sprang into the water, and with great sweeping 
strokes made for the other side. The water fairly 
foamed about his broad, white shoulders as he tore 
through it. He steered straight for the spot where 
he had seen Bert last. Three-fourths of the distance 
had been covered, when suddenly he stopped, and, 
reaching down into the water, pulled up — What do 
you think? Why, Bert, of course, whose big brown 
eyes had startled him as they looked up at him 
through the clear, cool water. But how did Bert 
get there? Well, easily enough. He had got tired 
waiting for his uncle to come back for him. He 
wanted to be over there where the men were all 
having such fun. He could not swim across, so he 
just coolly accepted the only alternative, and started 
to walk across! When Uncle Alec found him there 
was a clear foot of water over his head. A step or 
two more and he would certainly have lost his 
footing, been carried away by the current, and 


53 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

drowned perhaps before Uncle Alec could have found 
him. 

The men all voted him a young hero when they 
were told of his attempt, and Uncle Alec vowed he’d 
teach him to swim the next time he paid a visit to 
Maplebank. 

Aunt Sarah was greatly excited when she heard 
of her darling Bert’s second escape, and had Mrs. 
Lloyd taken her advice the poor boy would have 
been tied to somebody’s apron strings for the rest 
of the summer. But Mrs. Lloyd thought it better 
to do no more than caution Bert, and trust to the 
Providence that protects children to keep him from 
harm. He would have to learu to take care of him- 
self sooner or later ; and the sooner, the better. 


CHAPTER yill. 


TEMPTATION AND TRIUMPH. 

HE one day in the week that Bert did not like at 



Maplebauk was Sunday; and, indeed, under 
the circumstances, he was not without excuse. At 
liome, the Lord’s Day was always made as bright and 
cheerful as possible. The toys and playthings of the 
week days were, of course, put aside, and wading by 
the seasliore or coasting down the lane, was not to be 
thought of ; but in their place, Bert had his father’s 
company, of which he never had enough, and Mr. 
Lloyd made it a point, whether he really felt in good 
spirits himself or not, to appear to do so to Bert; and 
in consequence, the little chap never thought his father 
quite so delightful as on the day of rest, that was so 
welcome to the lawyer, tired by a week’s toil at his 
profession. 

Then mother had more leisure, too ; and besides 
the pleasure of going with his parents to church, 
dressed in his best clothes, a privilege Bert fully 
appreciated, there was the enjoyment of having her 
read to him wonderfully interesting stories from the 
Bible, or Pilgrim’s Progress, and explaining to him 
whatever puzzled his brain. 

If the day was fine, Mary would take him with 


64 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


55 


her to the Sunday-school where, with a number of 
youngsters like himself, the hour would pass quickly 
enough, as Miss Brightley entertained them with 
song, and story, and pictures bearing upon the lesson. 
And then, after Sunday-school, in summer time, his 
father would lead him otF to the old fort, where they 
w'ould sit on the grassy ramparts, watching the white- 
sailed ships cleaving the blue waters that never seemed 
more beautiful than on Sunday afternoon. 

But at Maplebank it was all very different. ’Squire 
Stewart was a Presbyterian of the stern old Covenanter 
stock. To him, the Lord’s Day meant a day to be spent 
in unsmiling strictness of conversation and demeanor. 
No laughter, no bright talk, no semblance of joyous- 
ness was sanctioned ; nor, indeed, could have existed 
within the range of his solemn countenance. He was 
a grave and silent man at any time, but on Sunday 
the gravity of his appearance was little short of 
appalling. One meeting him for the first time would 
certainly have thought that he had just been visited 
bv some overwhelming affliction. Bert, on the morn- 
ing of his first Sunday, coming out of his mother’s 
room, after receiving the finishing touches to his dress, 
and dancing along the hall, in joyous anticipation of 
the drive in the big carriage to the village, ran right 
into his grandfather. Laying a strong hand on the 
boy’s shoulder, ’Squire Stewart looked down at him 
with disapproval written on every line of his stern 
face. 


56 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


My boy,” said he, in his deepest tones, know 
you not that this is the Sabbath day, and that you are 
to keep it holy, and not be dancing along the hall ?” 

Poor Bert shrank away with a trembling didn’t 
mean to, sir,” and thenceforth avoided his grandfather 
as completely as though he were a criminal and the 
’squire was a policeman. 

Not only at the house, but at the church, did 
Bert find Sunday a day of dreariness. And here 
again, who could blame him ? He was only a boy, 
and a very restless, active boy, at that, to whom one 
half hour’s sitting still was about as much as he could 
endure. How, then, could he be expected to be equal 
to four whole hours of stillness? Yet, that was what 
his grandfather required of him, whenever he went 
to church. 

The order of the day was as follows : Leaving the 
house about ten o’clock, in the big covered carriage, 
of which the ’squire felt duly proud, as being the 
only one in the county, they drove leisurely into the 
village, where the horses were put up, and after the 
ladies had dropped in at a friend’s to make sure their 
bonnets and dressess were as they ought to be, thev 
wended their wav to the church, which, standincr rio^ht 
in the centre of the village, was noisily summoning its 
worshipers to its seats as the big bell swung to and 
fro high up in the steeple. 

The church service began at eleven o'clock, and 
was of the most old-fashioned orthodox type. No 


BERT Lloyd's boyhood. 


57 


organ liad yet profaned the sanctity of that holy 
place, but instead thereof, a quartette of singers, se- 
lected seemingly more for the strength than the 
sweetness of their voices, occupied a large box right 
under the pulpit, and thence led the congregation by 
a whole bar at least, in the rendering of Tate and 
Brady’s metrical version of the Psalms. Very weird 
and sorrowful were many of the tunes. ISTone were 
bright and inspiring like those Bert was wont to hear 
at home, and as choir and congregation vied with one 
another in the vigor of their singing, the little fellow 
was sometimes half-frightened at the bewildering 
noise they made.- 

A saintlier pastor than the Beverend Mr. Good- 
man, D. D., few congregations possessed ; but only 
those members of his audience who were of like age 
with himself thought him a good preacher. He had, 
indeed, some gifts in expounding the Bible, and even 
Bert would be interested if the lesson happened to be 
one of those stirring stories from the Old Testament 
which seem so full of life and truth. But when it 
came to preaching a sermon — well, it must be confessed 
there were then few dryer preachers throughout the 
whole Province of Acadia. Bending low over his 
manuscript, for his eyesight was poor, and lifting his 
head only now and then to wipe his brow, or relieve 
his throat, with a dry, hard cough, Mr. Goodman, 
pursued his way steadily and monotonously from 
firstly ” to lastly” every Sunday. 


68 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


And not only once, but twice on every Sunday. 
For be it understood, that although many of the con- 
gregation lived too far away from the church to make 
two trips to it from their homes, they were not thereby 
going to be deprived of two services. Accordingly, 
after the morning service — which usually lasted until 
one o’clock — was over, a recess of one hour for lunch 
and fresh air followed, and at two o’clock, a second 
service, precisely similar in character, was entered 
upon, which occupied two hours more. And then, 
having thus laid in a supply of sound theology for 
the rest of the week, the good people of Calvin 
church, after indulging in a little harmless, gossiping 
at the church door, — of which indulgence, by the way, 
’Squire Stewart strongly disapproved, and would have 
prohibited, had he been able, — harnessed up their 
horses and drove away home. 

Four hours of church service of so unattractive a 
character, and that in mid-summer ! Poor little Bert! 
He did not want to shock his grandfather, or bring 
his mother’s discipline into condemnation ; but really, 
how could he be all that the ’squire, who, if he ever 
had been a boy himself, must have quite forgotten 
about it, expected him to be ? If he went to sleep. 
Aunt Sarah or Aunt Martha, in obedience to signals 
from grandfather, shook or pinched him awake again. 
If he stayed awake, he felt that he must wriggle or 
die. Sometimes the temptation to scream out loud 
was so strong, that it seemed little short of a miracle 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


59 


he did not yield to it. Mrs. Lloyd fully sympathized 
with her son’s troubles, but accustomed from infancy 
to obey her father unquestioningly, she would not 
venture to do more than softly plead for Bert, now 
aud then, when lie was more restless than usual. Her 
pleadings were not altogether vain, and frequently 
they had the result of securing for Bert a boon that 
he highly appreciated. 

’Squire Stewart was bothered by a troublesome chronic 
cough. He did not mind it very much when at home, 
but at church he felt it to be a nuisance, both to him- 
self and his neighbors. To ease it somewhat, he 
always carried to church with him a number of black- 
currant lozenges, a supply of which he kept in his big 
mahogany desk at home. Occasionally, either as en- 
couragement to him to try and be a better boy, or as 
a token of relenting for being over severe, he would 
pass Bert one of these lozenges, and Bert thought 
them the most delicious and desirable sweetmeat ever 
invented. Not that they were really anything wonder- 
ful, though they were very expensive ; but the circum- 
stances under which he received them gave them a 
peculiar relish; and it was in regard to them that 
Bert fought aud won the sharpest battle with the 
tempter of all his early boyhood. It happened in this 
way : 

As already mentioned, ’Squire Stewart kept a supply 
of these lozenges in his big mahogany desk that had a 
table to itself in the parlor. This desk was always 


60 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


kept locked, and Bert had many a time, when alone 
in the room, gone up to it and passed his hand over 
its polished surface, thinking to himself how nice it 
would be if tlie package of lozenges was in his pocket 
instead of shut up in there where nobody could get 
at it. 

One morning, as Bert was playing about the house, 
a message came that the ^squire was wanted at once at 
the farthest barn, as one of the horses had been hurt 
by another. He went out hastily, and shortly after, 
Bert, going into the parlor, saw the desk wide open, 
his grandfather having been looking for a paper when 
so suddenly called away. The moment his eyes fell 
upon the open desk, a thought flashed into his mind 
that set every nerve tingling. As though the old 
desk exerted some strange and subtle fascination, he 
drew near it; slowly, hesitatingly, almost on tip-toe, 
yet steadily. His heart beat like a trip-hammer, and 
his ears were straining to catch the slightest sound of 
any one’s approach. The house was wonderfully 
quiet. He seemed to be quite alone in it; and pres- 
ently he found himself close beside the desk. Although 
open, the inner lids were still shut, and ere Bert put 
out his hand, to lift the one under which he thought 
the package of lozenges lay, the thought of the wrong 
he was doing came upon him, so strongly as well nigh 
to conquer the temptation. For a moment, he stood 
there irresolute ; and then again the hand that had 
dropped to his side was stretched forth. As it touched 


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Page 61. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


61 


the desk lid, a thrill shot through his heart; and again 
he hesitated and drew hack. 

It was really a tremendous struggle, and one upon 
which great issues hung, so far as that boy, alone in 
that room with the tempter, was concerned. Bert 
fully realized how wrong it would be for him to touch 
the lozenges ; but, oh ! what a wonderful fascination 
they had for him ! 

Beaching forward again, he lifted up the desk lid, 
and there, fully exposed to view, lay the package 
temptingly wide open, displaying its toothsome con- 
tents. The crisis of the temptation had come. An 
instant more, and Bert would have yielded ; when 
suddenly his better nature got the upper hand, and 
with a quick resolution, the secret of which he never 
fully understood, he cried out : 

No, I won’t.” And slamming down the desk lid, 
he tried to run out of the room, and ran right into the 
arms of his grandfather, who, unseen and unsuspected, 
had witnessed the whole transaction from the door. 

Overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and terror at 
having been detected by the one person of all others 
whom he dreaded most, Bert sank down on the 
floor, sobbing as though his heart would break. But, 
strange to say, the stern old man had no harsh words 
for him now. On the contrary, he bent down, and 
lifting the little fellow gently to his feet said, in tones 
of deepest tenderness : 

^^No tears, laddie; no tears. You’ve fought a 


62 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


grand fight, and glad am I that I was there to see 
you win it. God grant you like success to the end of 
your days. Ihu proud of you, Bert boy ; Bm proud 
of you. 

Scarce able to believe his ears, Bert looked up 
through his tears into his grandfather’s face. But 
there was no mistaking the expression of that rugged 
old countenance. It fairly beamed with love and 
pride, and throwing himself into his arms, Bert for 
the first time realized that his grandfather loved him. 

He never forgot that scene. Many a time after it 
came back to him, and helped him to decide for the 
right. And many a time, too, when grandfather 
seemed unduly stern, did the remembrance of his face 
that morning in the parlor drive away the hard feel- 
ings that had begun to form against him. 


CHAPTER IX. 


LOST AND FOUND. 

rpHE summer days passed very quickly and happily 
-L for Bert at Maplebank, especially after the sur- 
prising revelation of the love and tenderness that under- 
lay his grandfather’s stern exterior. Xo one did more 
for his comfort or happiness than his grandmother, and 
he loved her accordingly with the whole strength of 
his young heart. She was so slight and frail, and 
walked with such slow, gentle steps, that the thought 
of being her protector and helper, often came into his 
mind, and caused him to put on a more erect, im- 
portant bearing, as he walked beside her in the garden, 
or through the orchard where the apples were already 
beginning to give promise of the coming ripeness. 

Mrs. Stewart manifested her love for her grandson 
in one way that made a great impression upon Bert. 
She would take him over to the dairy, in its cool 
place beneath the trees, and, selecting the cooler with 
the thickest cream upon it, would skim off a teaspoon- 
ful into a large spoon that was already half filled 
with new oatmeal, and then pour the luscious mixture 
into the open mouth waiting expectantly beside her. 

Is not that fine, Bertie boy ? ” she would say, 
patting him affectionately upon the head ; and Bert, 

63 


64 


BEKT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


his mouth literally too full for utterance, would try to 
look the thanks he could not speak. 

Maplebank had many strange visitors. It stood 
a little way back from the junction of three roads, 
and the ’squire’s hospitality to wayfarers being un- 
bounded, the consequence was that rarely did a night 
pass without one or more finding a bed in some corner 
of the kitchen. Sometimes it would be a shipwrecked 
sailor, slowly finding his way on foot to the nearest 
shipping port. Sometimes a young lad, with pack on 
back, setting out to seek his fortune at the capital, or 
in the States beyond. Again it would be a traveling 
tinker, or tailor, or cobbler, plying his trade from 
house to house, and thereby making an honest living. 

But the most frequent visitors of all — real nuisances, 
though, they often made themselves — were the poor, 
simple folk, of whom a number of both sexes roamed 
ceaselessly about. Not far from Maplebank was 
what the better class called a “ straglash district” — 
that is, a settlement composed of a number of people 
who had by constant intermarriage, and poor living 
caused insanity of a mild type to be woefully com- 
mon. Almost every family had its idiot boy or girl, 
and these poor creatures, being, as a rule, perfectly 
harmless, were suffered to go at large, and were gen- 
erally well treated by the neighbors, upon whose 
kindness they were continually trespassing. 

The best known of them at the time of Bert’s 
visit, was one called Crazy Colin,” a strange being. 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


65 


lialf wild, half civilized, with the frame of an athlete, 
and the mind of a child. Although more than thirty 
years of age, he had never shown much moi’e sense 
than a two-year-old baby. He even talked in a queer 
gibberish, such as was suitable to that stage of child- 
hood. Everybody was kind to him. His clothes 
and his food were given him. As for a roof, he needed 
none in summer save when it stormed, and in winter 
he found refuge among his own people. His chief 
delight was roaming the woods and fields, talking 
vigorously to himself in his own language, and waving 
a long ash staff that was rarely out of his hands. 
He would thus spend whole days in apparent content, 
returning only when the pangs of hunger could be 
borne no longer. 

Bert took a great deal of interest in these ^^straglash ’’ 
people, and especially in Crazy Colin, who was a 
frequent visitor at the ^squire^s kitchen, for Mrs. 
Stewart never refused him a generous bowl of por- 
ridge and milk, or a huge slice of bread and butter. 
At first he was not a little afraid of Crazy Colin. 
But soon he got accustomed to him, and then, boy- 
like, presuming upon acquaintance, began to tease 
him a bit when he would come in for a ‘’bite and 
sup.’^ More than once the idiot^s eyes flashed dan- 
gerously at Bert\s pranks; but, fool though he was, he 
had sense enough to understand that any outbreak 
w^ould mean his prompt expulsion and banishment, 
and so he would restrain himself. One memorable 


66 


BEPwT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


day, however, when Bert least expected or invited it, 
the demon of insanity broke loose in a manner that 
might have had serious consequences. 

It was on a Sunday. The whole family had gone 
off to church, except Bert, who had been left at home 
in the charge of the cook. She was a strapping big 
Scotch lassie, and very fond of Bert. About an hour 
after the family left. Crazy Colin sauntered along and 
took his seat in the kitchen. Neither Kitty nor Bert 
was by any means pleased to see him, but they 
thought it better to keep their feelings to themselves. 
Bert, indeed, made some effort to be entertaining, but 
Crazy Colin seemed in rather a sulky mood, an un- 
usual thing for him^ so Bert soon gave it up, and 
went off into the garden. 

The roses were blooming beautifully there, and he 
picked several before returning to the kitchen. When 
he came back, he found the unwelcome visitor alone, 
Kitty having gone into the other part of the house. 
He was sitting beside the table with his head bent 
forward upon his hands, apparently in deep dejection. 
Upon the table was a large knife which Kitty had 
just been using in preparing the meat for dinner. 
Thinking it would please poor Colin, Bert selected 
the finest rose in his bunch and handed it to him, 
moving off toward the door leading into the hall as 
he did so. Colin lifted his head and grasped the rose 
rudely. As his big hand closed upon it, a thorn that 
hid under the white petals pierced deep into the ball 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


67 


of his thumb. In an instant the sleeping demon of 
insanity awoke. With eyes blazing and frame trem- 
bling with fury, he sprang to his feet, seized the knife, 
and with a hoarse, inarticulate shout, turned upon 
Bert, who, paralyzed with terror, stood rooted to the 
spot half-way between the idiot and the door. It 
was a moment of imminent peril, but ere Crazy 
Colin could reach the boy, his hoarse cry was 
echoed by a shrill shriek from behind Bert, and two 
stout arms encircling him, bore him otf through the 
door and up the stairs, pausing not until ’Squire 
Stewart’s bedroom was gained and the door locked 
fast. Then depositing her burden upon the floor, 
brave, big Kitty threw herself into a chair, exclaim- 
ing, breathlessly; 

‘•Thank God, Master Bert, we’re safe now. The 
creature darsen’t come up those stairs.” 

And Kitty was right; for although Crazy Coliu 
raged and stormed up and down the hall, striking 
the wall with the knife, and talking in his wild, un- 
intelligible way, he did not attempt to set foot upon 
the stairs. Presently he became perfectly quiet. 

“Has he gone away, Kitty?” asked Bert, eagerly, 
speaking for the first time. “He’s not making any 
noise now.” 

Kitty stepped softly to the door, and putting her 
ear to the crack, listened intently for a minute. 

“There’s not a sound of him. Master Bert. Please, 
God, he’s gone, but we hadn’t better go out of the 


68 


BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 


room until the folks come home. He may be wait- 
ing in the kitchen.” 

And so they stayed, keeping one another company 
through the long hours of the morning and afternoon 
until at last the welcome sound of wheels crushing 
the gravel told that the carriage had returned, and 
they might leave their refuge. 

The indignation of ’Squire Stewart when he heard 
what had occurred was a sight to behold. Sunday 
though it was, he burst forth into an unrestrained 
display of his wrath, and had the cause of it ven- 
tured along at the time, he certainly would have been 
in danger of bodily injury. 

“The miserable trash!” stormed the ’squire. “Not 
one of them shall ever darken my threshold again. 
Hech ! that’s what comes of being kind to such ob- 
jects. They take you to be as big fools as them- 
selves, and act accordingly. The constable shall lay 
his grip on that loon so sure as I am a Stewart.” 

There were more reasons for the ’squire’s wrath, too, 
than the fright Crazy Colin had given Bert and 
Kitty, for no dinner awaited the hungry church- 
goers, and rejoiced as they all were at the happy es- 
cape of the two who had been left at home, that was 
in itself an insufficient substitute for a warm, well- 
cooked dinner. But Kitty, of course, could not be 
blamed, and there was nothing to be done but to make 
the best of the situation, and satisfy their hunger upon 
such odds and ends as the larder afforded. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


69 


As for poor Crazy Colin, whether by some subtle 
instinct on coming to himself he realized how gravelv 
he had offended, or whether in some way or other he 
got a hint of the ’squire’s threats, cannot be said. 
Certain it was, that he did not present himself at 
Maplebank for many days after, and then he came 
under circumstances, which not only secured him com- 
plete forgiveness, but made him an actual hero, for 
the time, and won him a big place in the hearts of 
both Bert and his nfother. 

Although Bert had been forbidden to leave the 
homestead, unless in company with some grown-up 
person, he had on several occasions forgotten this in- 
junction, in the ardor of his play, but never so com- 
pletely as on the day that, tempted by Charlie Chis- 
holm, the most reckless, daring youngster in the 
neighborhood, he went away off into the back-lands, 
as the woods beyond the hill pasture were called, in 
search of an eagle’s nest, which the unveracious 
Charlie assured him was to be seen high up in a cer- 
tain dead monarch of the forest. 

It was a beautiful afternoon, toward the end of 
August, when Bert, his imagination fired by the 
thought of obtaining a young eagle, Charlie having 
assured him that this was entirely possible, broke 
through all restraints, and went off with his tempter. 
Unseen by any of the household, as it happened, they 
passed through the milk yard, climbed the hill, 
hastened across the pasture, dotted with the feeding 


70 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


cows, and soon were lost to sight in the woods that 
fringed the line of settlement on both sides of the 
valley, and farther on widened into tlie great forest 
that was traversed only by the woodsman and the 
hunter. 

On and on they went, until at length Bert was 
tired out. ‘‘Aren’t we far enough now, Charlie?” 
he asked, plaintively, throwing himself down upon a 
fallen tree to rest a little. 

“Not quite, Bert; but we’ll* soon be,” answered 
Charlie. “ Let’s take a rest, and then go ahead,” he 
added, following Bert’s example. 

Having rested a few minutes, Charlie sprang up 
saying : 

“ Come along, Bert ; or we’ll never get there.” And 
somewhat reluctantly the latter obeyed. Deeper and 
deeper into the forest they made their way, Charlie 
going ahead confidently, and Bert following doubt- 
fully ; for he was already beginning to repent of his 
rashness, and wish that he was home again. 

Presently Charlie showed signs of being uncertain 
as to the right route. He would turn first to the 
right and then to the left, peering eagerly ahead, as if 
hoping to come upon the big dead tree at any moment. 
Finally he stopped altogether. 

“ See here, Bert ; I guess we’re on the wrong track,” 
said he, coolly. “ I’ve missed the tree somehow, and 
it’s getting late, so we’d better make for home. We’ll 
have a try some other day.” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


71 


Poor little Bert, by this time thoroughly weary, 
was only too glad to turu homeward, and the relief 
at doing this gave him new strength for a while. But 
it did not last very long, and soon, footsore and ex- 
hausted, he dropped down upon, a bank of moss, and 
burst into tears. 

‘‘Oh, Charlie, I wish we were home,” he sobbed. 
“I’m so tired, and hungry, too.” 

Cliarlie did not know just what to do. It was 
getting on toward sundown; he had quite lost his 
way, and might be a good while finding it again, and 
he felt pretty well tired himself. But he put on a 
brave face and tried to be very cheerful, as he said; 

“Don’t cry, Bert. Cheer up, my boy, and we’ll 
soon get home.” 

It was all very well to say “ cheer up,” but it was 
another thing to do it. As for getting home soon, 
if there were no other way for Bert to get home than 
by walking the whole way, there was little chance of 
his sleeping in his own bed that night. 

How thoroughly miserable he did feel! His con- 
science, his legs, and his stomach were all paining him 
at once. He bitterly repented of his disobedience, 
and vowed he would never err in the same way again. 
But that, while it was all very right and proper, did 
not help him homeward. 

At length Charlie grew desperate. He had no 
idea of spending the night in the woods if he could 
possibly help it, so he proposed a plan to Bert: 


72 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


^‘See here, Bert,^’ said he, ^‘you’re too played out 
to walk any more. Now, 1^11 tell you what I’ll do. 
I’ll run home as fast as I can, and saddle the old 
mare and bring her here, and then we’ll ride back 
again together. What do you say ? ” 

Oh, don’t leave me here alone ?” pleaded Bert. 
^‘I’ll be awfully frightened.” 

Chut ! Bert. There’s nothing to frighten you 
but some old crows. Stay just where you are, and 
I’ll be back inside of an hour.” And without wait- 
ing to argue the point, Charlie dashed off into the 
woods in the direction he thought nearest home; 
while Bert, after crying out in vain for him to come 
back, buried his face in the moss and gave himself 
lip to tears. 

One hour, two hours, three hours passed, and still 
Bert was alone. The sun had set, the gloaming well- 
nigh passed, and the shadows of night drew near. 
All kinds of queer noises fell upon his ear,' filling 
him with acute terror. He dared not move from the 
spot upon which Cliarlie had left him, but sat there, 
crouched up close against a tree, trembling with fear 
in every nerve. At intervals he would break out 
into vehement crying, and then he would be silent 
again. Presently the darkness enveloped him, and 
still no succor came. 

Meantime, there had been much anxiety at Maple- 
bank. On Bert’s being missed, diligent inquiry was 
made as to his whereabouts, and at length, after much 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


73 


questioning, some one was found who had seen him 
in company with Charlie Chisholm, going up through 
the hill pasture toward the woods. When Mrs. 
Lloyd heard who his companion was, her anxiety in- 
creased, for she well knew what a reckless, adventur- 
ous little fellow Charlie was, and she determined that 
search should be made for the boys at once. But in 
this she- was delayed by Uncle Alec and the men 
being off at a distance, and not returning until supper 
time. So soon as they did get back, and heard of 
Bert’s disappearance, they swallowed their supper, 
and all started without delay to hunt him up. 

The dusk had come before the men — headed by 
Uncle Alec, and followed, as far as the foot of the 
hill, by the old ’squire — got well started on their 
search ; but they were half a dozen in number, and 
all knew the country pretty well, so that the prospect 
of their finding the lost boy soon seemed bright 
enough. 

Yet the dusk deepened into darkness, and hour 
after hour passed — hours of intense anxiety and 
earnest prayer on the part of the mother and others 
at Maplebank — without any token of success. 

Mrs. Lloyd was not naturally a nervous woman, 
but who could blame her if her feelings refused con- 
trol when her darling boy was thus exposed to dangers, 
the extent of which none could tell. 

The ’squire did his best to cheer her in his bluff, 
blunt way : 


74 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

Tut ! tut ! Kate. Don’t worry so. The child’s 
just fallen asleep somewhere. He’ll be found as soon 
as it’s light. There’s nothing to harm him in those 
woods.” 

Mrs. Lloyd tried hard to persuade herself that there 
wasn’t, but all kinds of vague terrors filled her mind, 
and refused to be allayed. 

At length, as it drew toward midnight, a step was 
heard approaching, and the anxious watchers rushed 
eagerly to the door, hoping for good news. But it 
was only one of the men, returning according to 
arrangement to see if Bert had been found, and if not 
to set forth again along some new line of search. 
After a little interval another came, and then another, 
until all had returned. Uncle Alec being the last, and 
still no news of Bert. 

They were bidden to take some rest and refreshment 
before going back into the woods. While they were 
sitting in the kitchen. Uncle Alec, who was exceedingly 
fond of Bert, and felt more concerned about him than 
he cared to show, having no appetite for food, went 
off toward the red gate with no definite purpose ex- 
cept that he could not keep still. 

Presently the still midnight air was started with a 
joyful Hurrah ! ” followed close by a shout of Bert’s 
all right — he’s here,” that brought the people in the 
house tumbling pell mell against each other in their 
haste to reach the door and see what it all meant. 

The light from the kitchen streamed out upon the 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


75 


road, making a broad luminous path, up which the 
next moment strode Crazv Colin, bearina: Bert hi^h 
upon his broad shoulders, while his swarthy counte- 
nance fairly shone with a smile of pride and satisfaction 
that clearly showed he did not need Uncle Alec’s en- 
thusiastic clappings on the back, and hearty Well 
done, Colin ! You ’re a trump ! ” to make i)im under- 
stand the importance of what he had done. 

The two were at once surrounded by the over-joyed 
family. After giving her darling one passionate hug, 
Mrs. Lloyd took both of Crazy Colin’s hands in her’s, 
and looking up into his beaming face, said, with a deep 
sincerity even his dull brain could not fail to ap- 
preciate: ‘‘God bless you, Colin. I cannot thank 
you enough, but I’ll be your friend for life ; ” while 
the ’squire, having blown his nose very vigor- 
ously on his red silk handkerchief, grasped Colin 
by the arm, dragged him into the house, and ordered 
that the best the larder could produce should be placed 
before him at once. It was a happy scene, and no one 
enjoyed it more than did Crazy Colin himself. 

The exact details of the rescue of Bert were never 
fully ascertained ; for, of course, poor Colin could not 
make them known, his range of expression being 
limited to his mere personal wants, and Bert himself 
being able to tell no more than that while lying at the 
foot of the tree, and crying pretty vigorously, he heard 
a rustling among the trees that sent a chill' of terror 
through him, and then the sound of Crazy Colin’s 


76 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


talk with himself, which he recognized instantly. 
Forgetting all about the fright Colin had given him a 
few days before, he shouted out his name. Colin came 
to him at once, and seeming to understand the situa- 
tion at a glance, picked him up in his strong arms, 
flung him over his shoulder, and strode off* toward 
Maplebank with him as though he were a mere 
feather-weight and not a sturdy boy. Dark as it was, 
Colin never hesitated, nor paused, except now and then 
to rest a moment, until he reached the red gate where 
Uncle Alec met him, and welcomed him so warmly. 

Mrs. Lloyd did not think it wise nor necessary to 
say very much to Bert about his disobedience. If 
ever there was a contrite, humbled boy, it was he. He 
had learned a lesson that he would be long in forget- 
ting. As for his tempter, Charlie Chisholm, he did 
not turn up until the next morning, having lost him- 
self completely in his endeavor to get home ; and it 
was only after many hours of wandering, he found his 
way to an outlying cabin of the backwoods settlement, 
where he was given shelter for the night. 


CHAPTER X. 


BERT GOES TO SCHOOL. 


W ITH the waning of summer came the time for 
Mrs. Lloyd to return to the city. Both she 
and Bert felt very sorry to leave Maplebank, and the 
family there was unanimous in seeking to persuade 
her to allow Bert to remain for the winter. But this 
was not practicable, because, in the first place, Mr. 
Lloyd had been writing to say that he was quite tired 
of being without his boy, and would like to have him 
back again as soon as was convenient; and, in the 
second place, Bert had reached the age when he ought 
to begin his schooling, and must return home for that 
purpose. 

So at length, after more than one postponement, the 
day of departure arrived. Grandmother and Aunt 
Martha, and Aunt Sarah, could not restrain their 
tears, afid big, kind Kitty was among the mourners, 
too, as Bej^t and his mother took their ,,seats^in the 
double"- waggi^ BeMde the ’si^qi^suTd Uncle Alec, to. 
dr ive in to t he villagfi ^here the coach'would -be met. 

and many '€f"lPond ^‘Good-bye! ’ God" bless you,- my' 
darling !” the travelers started on their homeward 
journey. The village was reached, in good time^ the 

77 


78 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


coach found awaiting its passengers, the trunks safely 
stowed behind, the last good-bye to grandfather and 
Uncle Alec said, and then, amid cracking of whips 
and waving of handkerchiefs, the big coach rolled 
grandly off, and Bert had really parted with dear, 
delightful Maplebank, where he had spent such a 
happy summer. 

The homeward journey was a very pleasant one, 
and marked by no exciting incidents. Jack Davis 
was in his place on the box, and, recognizing Bert 
when the passengers got out at the first change of 
horses, hailed him with a hearty : “ Hullo, youngster ! 
Are you on board? Would you like to come up on 
top with me again ? 

It need hardly be said that Bert jumped at the 
invitation, and, his mother giving her consent, he rode 
on the box seat beside Davis the greater part of the 
day as happy as a bird. The weather was perfect, 
it being a cool, bright day in early September, and 
Bert enjoyed very much recognizing and recalling the 
different things that had particularly interested him 
on the way down. Black Rory^^ was as lively as 
ever, and seemed determined to run away and dash 
everything to pieces as they started out from his 
stable, but calmed down again after a mile or two, as 
usual, and trotted along amiably enough the rest of 
his distance. 

It happened that Davis had no one on the outside 
with whom he cared to talk, so he gave a good deal 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


79 


of attention to Bert, telling him about the horses and 
their peculiarities, and how they were in so many 
ways just like people, and had to be humored some- 
times, and sometimes punished, and how it was, upon 
the whole, so much better to be kind than cruel to 
them. 

“ If your father ever lets you have a pony, Bert,” 
said Davis, ^^take my word for it it’ll pay you to 
treat that ere pony like a brother. Just let him know 
you’re fond of him from the start; give him a lump 
of sugar or a crust of bread now and then, — it’s won- 
derful how fond horses are of such things, — and he’ll 
follow you about just like a dog. Horses have got a 
good deal more h™an^n3J:ure“-ha, ^em than folks 
generally give ’em efedltTfor, I can teH-you, uHd"I 
think I know what I’m talking abou't^ for I’ve had to 
do with them ever since I’ve been as big as you.” 

Bert listened to this lecture with very lively inter- 
est, for his father had more than once hinted at getting 
him a pony some day if he were a good boy, and 
showed he could be trustedjidth^umR^^J confided 
his hopesJtodMs-'fnehHTmid received in return for the 
confidence a lot more of good advice, which need not 
be repeated here. 

The sun was setting as the coach drove up to the 
hotel at Thurso, where Mrs. Lloyd and,. Bert were to 
remain for the night, taking the traih for Halifax the 
next morning. Bert felt quite sorry ^Lp^rting with 
his big friend, the driver, and ‘ ver^'^ladly promised 


80 


BERT Lloyd's boyhood. 


him that the next time he was going to Maplebank he 
would try to manage so as to be going down on Jack 
Davis' day that their friendship might be renewed. 

Both Bert and his mother were very glad to get to 
bed that night. Coaching is fine fun in fine weather, 
but it is fatiguing, nevertheless. You cannot ride all 
day in a coach without more or less backache, and 
Bert was so sleepy that, but for his mother preventing 
him, he would have flung himself upon his bed with- 
out so much as taking off his boots. He managed to 
undress all right enough, however, and then slept like 
a top until next morning. 

Bright and early they took the train, and by mid- 
day were at Halifax, where Mr. Lloyd and Mary 
received them with open arms and many a glad kiss. 

After allowing him a few days to settle down to 
home life again, the question of Bert's going to school 
was raised. He was now full eight years of age, and 
quite old enough to make a beginning. His mother 
and sister had between them given him a good start 
in the ^Hhree B's" at home, for he was an apt pupil, 
and he was quite ready to enter a larger sphere. 

At fii-st his parents were somewhat undecided as to 
whether they would send him to a school presided 
over by a woman or a man. It was usual in Halifax 
for those who preferred the private to the public 
schools to send their boys for a year or two to a 
dame's school as a sort of easy introduction to school 
life ; and in the very same street as that in which the 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


81 


Lloyds lived there was such a school where two rather 
gaunt and grim old-maid sisters aided one another in 
the application of primer and taws. To this institu- 
tion Mrs. Lloyd thought it would be well for Bert to 
go. His father had no very decided views to the 
contrary, but on Bert himself being consulted, it 
became very clear that his mind was quite made up. 

^‘Please don’t send me to ^Old Goggles’ school, 
father,” pleaded he, earnestly. 

‘^^Old Goggles!’ Why, Bert, what do you mean 
by calling Miss Poster by such a name as that ? ” 

^Ht’s most disrespectful,” interrupted his mother, 
with a very much shocked expression, while Mr. 
Lloyd tried hard, but unsuccessfully, to conceal a 
smile beneath his moustache. 

^‘Well, mother, that’s what they all call her,” ex- 
plained Bert. 

^^Even though they do, Bert, you should not. 
Miss Poster is a lady, and you must act the gentleman 
toward her,” replied Mrs. Lloyd. ‘^Biit why don’t 
you want to go to school there ? Several boys about 
your own age are going.” 

^^Oh, because a lot of girls go there, and I don’t 
want to go to school wdth girls,” was Master Bert’s 
ungallant reply. 

Mr. Lloyd, who had evidently been much amused 
at the conversation, now joined in it by drawing Bert 
toward him and asking, in a half-serious, half-humor- 
ous tone : 

F 


82 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Is my boy Bert afraid of little girls ? ” 

Bert’s face flushed till it was crimson, and dropping 
his head upon liis breast, he muttered : 

I’m not afraid of them, but I don’t like ’em, aud 
I don’t want to go to school with ’em.” 

The fact of the matter was that Bert not only had 
his full share of the repugnance to the other sex com- 
mon to all boys of his age, but he had besides a strong 
notion that it was not a manly thing to go to school 
with girls, and if there was one thing more than an- 
other that he aspired after, it was manliness. 

Mr. Lloyd thoroughly understood his son’s feelings, 
and felt disposed to humor them. Accordingly, lifting 
up his head, he gave him a kiss on the forehead, saying: 

“Very well, Bert; we’ll see about it. Since you 
have such decided objections to Miss Goggles’ — I beg 
her pardon. Miss Poster’s — excellent establishment, I 
will make inquiry, and see if I cannot find something 
that will suit you better. I want you to like your 
school, and to take an interest in it.” 

Bert’s face fairly beamed at these words, and he 
heaved a huge sigh of relief which brought another 
smile out on his father’s countenance. 

“You’re such a good fiither,” said Bert, hugging his 
knees, and there the matter dropped for a few days. 

When it came up again, Mr. Lloyd had a new propo- 
sition to make. In the interval he had been makins: 
some inquiries, and had been recommended to send his 
boy to a school just lately established by an accom- 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


83 


plished young lawyer, who had adopted that method 
of ea !i ng an lionest penny while waiting for his prac- 
liee to beeoine more lucrative. It was a good tieal 
ot an experiment, Mr. Lloyd thought, but possibly 
worth trying. 

Accordingly, one fine morning in October, behold 
Master Bert in a rather perturbed frame of mind 
trotting along beside his father, who pretended not to 
be aware of his son’s feelings, although at the same 
time seeking in every way to divert him. But it w^as not 
wdth much success. Bert felt thorouo-hlv nervous over 
the new^ experience that awaited him. He had never 
seen Mr. Garrison, wdio w’as to be his teacher, and 
imagined him as a tall, thin man with a long beard, a 
stern face, a harsh voice, and an ever-ready “cat-o’-uine 
tails.” As for his future schoolmates, they were no 
doubt a lot of rough, noisy chaps, that would be certain 
to “ put him through a course of sprouts” before they 
would make friends with him. 

If, then, such thoughts as these filled Bert’s mind, 
it must not be wondered at that he lagged a good deal 
both as to his talking and walking, although he was 
always spry enough with both when out with his 
father. Much sooner than he wished they reached the 
building, a large rambling stone structure, only one 
room of which was occupied by the school ; they 
climbed the broad free-stone staircase to the upper 
story, knocked at a door from behind wdiich came a 
confused hum of voices, and being bidden Come in,” 


84 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


entered a big room that at first seemed to Bert to be 
completely filled by a misty sea of faces with every 
eye turned right upon him. He cowered before this 
curious scrutiny, and but for his father’s restraining 
grasp would probably have attempted a wild dash for 
the still unclosed door, when he heard his father 
saying : 

^‘Good-morning, Mr. Garrison ; I have brought my 
boy to place him in your care for a while, if you will 
have him as a pupil.” Looking up, Bert beheld a 
person approaching very different from the school- 
master of his gloomy anticipations. 

Mr. Garrison was indeed tall, but there the simi- 
larity ended. He was youthful, slight, and very at- 
tractive in appearance, his manner being exceedingly 
graceful and easy, as he came forward with a winning 
smile upon his countenance, and extending his right 
hand to Mr. Lloyd, placed the other upon Bert’s 
shoulder, and said, in a mellow, pleasant voice ; 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Idoyd. I shall be very glad 
indeed to have your boy in my shool, and if he is 
anything like as good a man as his father, he will 
make one of my very best .pupils.” 

Mr. Lloyd laughed heartily at this flattering re- 
mark. 

“ Listen to that, Bert,” said he. “ When you are 
in any doubt just how to behave, you have only to 
ask yourself what I would do under the same circum- 
stances, and act accordingly.” Then, turning to Mr. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


85 


Garrison, he said : Perhaps you would like me to 
join your school, too, so as to set a good example to 
the other boys.” 

K-ight glad would I be to have you, Mr. Lloyd,” 
answered Mr. Garrison, with a cordial smile. Many 
a time I find my boys almost too much for one. man 
to handle.” 

Bert, clinging fast to his father’s hand, and half- 
hoping he was in earnest, felt a pang of disappoint- 
ment when he replied : 

I’m afraid it’s too late, Mr. Garrison. My school- 
days are past; except so far as I may be able to live 
them over with this little chap here. I will leave 
him with you now ; do your best with him. He can 
learn well enough when he likes, but he is just as 
fond of fun as any youngster of his age.” Then giv- 
ing Bert an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and 
whispering in his ear Now, be a man, Bert,” Mr. 
Lloyd went away, and Bert followed Mr. Garrison up 
to the desk, where his name, age, and address were 
duly entered in the register book. 

The next business was to assign him a seat. A few 
questions as to what he knew showed that his proper 
place was in the junior class of all, and there accord- 
ingly Mr. Garrison led him. A vacancy was found 
for him in a long range of seats, extending from the 
door almost up to the desk, and he was bidden sit 
down beside a boy who had been eying him with 
lively curiosity, from the moment of his enti’ance into 


86 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


the room. So soon as Mr. Garrison went away, this 
boy opened fire upon the new comer. 

^‘Sav, sonny, what’s ver name?” he asked, with 
unhesitating abruptness. 

Bert looked the questioner all over before replying. 
He was a short, stout, stubble-haired chap, evidently 
a year or two older than himself, with a broad, good- 
humored face, and the inspection being, upon the 
whole, satisfactory, Bert replied, very pleasantly : 

^^Bert Llovd — and what’s vours?” 

*' ¥ 

Ignoring the question put to him, the other boy 
gave a sort of grunt that might be taken as an ex- 
pression of approval of his new schoolmate’s name, 
and then said :• 

Guess vou don’t live down our wav : never seen 
you before, that I know of.” 

‘‘I live in Fort Street. Where do you live?” re- 
plied Bert, giving question for question. 

^^I’ln a Westender,” said the other, meaning that 
his home was in the western part of the city. 

‘^But what’s your name?” asked Bert again. 

Oh, my name’s Frank Bowser,” was the careless 
reply. But everybody calls me ^ Shorty,’ and you 
may as well, too.” 

‘‘All right,” said Bert. And the two began to feel 
quite good friends at once. 

As the morning passed, and Bert came to feel more 
at home, he took in the details of his surroundings. 
Mr. Garrison’s school consisted of some fifty boys. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


87 


ranging in age from sixteen downward, Bert being 
about the youngest of them all. They all belonged 
to the better class, and were, upon the whole, a very pre- 
sentable lot of pupils. Scanning their countenances 
curiously as they sat at their desks or stood up in rows 
before the teacher to recite, Bert noticed more than 
one face that he instinctively liked, and, being charmed 
with Mr. Garrison, and well-pleased with his new 
friend Shorty,” his first impressions were decidedly 
favorable. 

He had, of course, nothing to do that morning, save 
to look about him, but Mr. Garrison gave him a list of 
books to be procured, and lessons to be learned in 
them before the school broke up for the day; and 
with this in his pocket he went home in excellent 
spirits, to tell them all there how well he had got on 
his first day in school. 


CHAPTEE XL 


SCHOOL LIFE AT MR. GARRISON’s. 

B eet Imd not been long at Mr. Garrison’s school, 
before he discovered that it was conducted on 
what might fairly be described as ^‘go-as-you-please” 
principles. A sad lack of S3'stem was its chief char- 
acteristic. He meant well enough by his pupils, and 
was constantly making spurts in the direction of 
reform and improvement, but as often falling back 
into the old irregular ways. 

The fact of the matter was that he not only was 
not a schoolmaster by instinct, but he had no intention 
of being one by profession. He had simply adopted 
teaching as a temporary expedient to tide over a 
financial emergency, and intended to drop it so soon 
as his object was accomplished. His heart was in 
his profession, not in his school, and the work of 
teaching was at best an irksome task, to be gotten 
through with each day as quickly as possible. Had 
Mr. Lloyd fully understood this, he wmuld never have 
placed Bert there. But he did not; and, moreover, 
he was interested in young Mr. Garrison, who had 
had many difficulties to encounter in making his w^ay, 
and he wished to help him. 

In the first place, Mr. Garrison kept no record of 
88 


BERT LLOYDS BOYHOOD. 


89 


attendance, either of the whole school, or of the 
different classes into which it was divided. A boy 
might come in an hour after the proper time, or be 
away for a whole day without either his lateness or his 
absence being observed. As a consequence “ meeching’’ 
— that is, taking a holiday without leave from either 
parents or teacher — was shamefully common. Indeed, 
there was hardly a day that one or more boys did not 

meech.^^ If by any chance they were missed, it 
was easy to get out of the difficulty by making some 
excuse about having been sick, or mother having 
kept them at home to do some work, and so forth. 
Schoolboys are always fertile in excuses, and, only too 
often, indifferent as to the quantity of truth these may 
contain. 

Another curious feature of Mr. Garrison’s system, 
or rather lack of system, was that he kept uo record 
of the order of standing in the classes; and so, when 
the class in geography, for instance, was called to 
recite, the boys would come tumbling pell-mell out 
of their seats, and crowd tumultuously to the space 
in front of the desk, with the invariable result that 
the smaller boys would be sent to the bottom of the 
class, whether they deserved to be there or not. Then, 
as to the hearing of the lesson, there was absolutely 
no rule about it. Sometimes the questions would be 
divided impartially among the whole class. Some- 
times they would all be asked of a single boy, and if 
he happened to answer correctly, — which, however, 


90 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


was an extremely rare occurrence, — the class would be 
dismissed without one of the others being questioned. 

Another peculiarity of Mr. Garrison’s was his going 
out on business for an hour or more at a time, and 
leaving tlie school in charge of one of the older boys, 
who would exercise the authority thus conferred upon 
him in a lax and kindly, or severe and cruel manner, 
according to his disposition. One of the boys gener- 
ally chosen for this duty was a big, good-hearted 
fellow named Munro; another was an equally big, 
but sour-dispositioned chap named Siteman; and 
whenever Mr. Garrison showed signs of going out, 
there was always intense excitement among the boys, 
to see who would be appointed monitor, and lively 
satisfaction, or' deep disappointment, according to the 
choice made. 

It was a little while, of course, before Bert found 
all this out, and in the mean time he made good head- 
way in the school, because his father took care that 
his lessons were well learned every evening before he 
went to bed ; and Mr. Garrison soon discovered that 
whoever else might fail, there was one boy in Bert’s 
classes that could be depended upon for a right an- 
swer, and that was Bert himself. 

There was another person who noticed Bert’s ready 
accuracy, and that was Shorty ” Bowser. 

Say, Bert,” said he one day, how is it that you 
always have your lessons down so fine? You never 
seem to trip up at all.” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


91 


Because father always sees that I learn ’em,” an- 
swered Bert. If I don’t learn ’em in the evening, 
I’ve got to do it before breakfast in the morning.” 

I wish my dad ’ud do as much for me ; but he 
don’t seem to care a cent whether I ever learn ’em 
or not,” said poor Shorty, ruefully. For he was 
pretty sure to miss two out of every three questions 
asked him, and Mr. Garrison thought him one of his 
worst scholars. 

Won’t your mother help you, then ? ” asked Bert, 
with interest. 

Got no mother,” was the reply, while Shorty’s 
eyes shone suspiciously. Mother’s been dead this 
good while.” 

Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Bert, in tones of genuine 
sympathy that went right to Frank Bow^ser’s heart, 
and greatly strengthened the liking he had felt from 
the first for his new schoolmate. 

It was not long before he gave proof of what he 
thought of Bert in a very practical way. They were 
for the most part in the same classes, and it soon be- 
came evident that Shorty felt very proud of his 
friend’s accuracy at recitation. That he should re- 
main at the foot while Bert worked his way up steadily 
toward the head of the class, did not arouse the 
slightest feeling of jealousy in his honest heart ; but, 
on the contrary, a frank admiration that did him in- 
finite credit. 

But it was just the other way with Bob Brandon, 


92 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


an overgrown, lanky boy, who seemed to have taken 
a dislike to Bert from the first, and seized every 
opportunity of acting disagreeably toward him. 
Being so much smaller, Bert had to endure his slights 
as best he could, but he found it very hard, and par- 
ticularly so that Bob should prevent him from getting 
his proper place in his class. Again and again would 
. Bert pass Bob, who, indeed, rarely knew his lessons ; 
but so sure as the class reassembled. Bob would roughly 
shoulder his way toward the top and Bert would 
have to take a lower position, unless Mr. Garrison 
happened to notice what was taking place and read- 
justed matters, which, however, did not often occur. 

This sort of thing had been going on for some time, 
until at last one day Bert felt so badly over it that 
when he went back to his seat he buried his head in 
his hands and burst out crying, much to the surprise 
of Shorty, who at once leaned over and asked, with 
much concern : 

What’s the matter, Bert ? Missed your lesson ? ” 

Bert checked his tears and told his trouble. 

Sho ! that’s what’s the matter, hey ? I guess I’ll 
fix Bob as sure as ray name’s Bowser.” 

^AYhat’ll you do?” asked Bert. ^^Tell the mas- 
ter?” 

^^No, sir. No tattling for me,” replied Shorty, 
vigorously. I’ll just punch his head for him, see if 
I don’t.” 

And he was as good as his word. Immediately 


BEET Lloyd's boyhood. 


93 


after the dismissal of the school, while the boys still 
lingered on the playground, Shorty stalked up to Bob 
Brandon, and told him if he didn’t stop shoving Bert 
Lloyd out of his proper place in the classes he would 
punch his head. Whereat Bob Brandon laughed 
contemptuously, and was rewarded with a blow on 
the face that fairly made him stagger. Then, of 
course, there was a fight, the boys forming a ring 
around the combatants, and Bert holding his cham- 
pion’s coat and hat, and hardly knowing whether to 
cry or to cheer. The fight did not last long. Bob 
was the taller, but Frank the stouter of the two. 
Bob, like most bullies, was a coward^ but Frank was 
as plucky as he was strong. Burning with righteous 
wrath, Frank went at his opponent hammer and tongs, 
and after a few minutes ineffective parrying and dodg- 
ing, the latter actually ran out of the ring, thoroughly 
beaten, leaving Frank in possession of the field, to 
receive the applause of his companions, and particu- 
larly of Bert, who gave him a warm hug, saying, 
gratefully : 

^^Dear, good Shorty. I’m so glad you beat him.” 

That fight united the two boys in firmer bonds of 
friendship than ever, especially as it proved quite 
effective so far as Bob Brandon was concerned, as 
he needed no other lesson. It was curious how Bert 
and Frank reacted upon one another. At first the 
influence proceeded mainly from Bert to Frank, the 
latter being much impressed by his friend’s attention 


94 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


to his lessons and good behavior in school, and some- 
what stirred up to emulate these virtues. But after 
Bert had been going to tlie school for some little time, 
and the novelty had all worn off, he began to lose 
some of his ardor and to imitate Frank’s happy-go- 
lucky carelessness. Instead of being one of the first 
boys in the school of a morning, he would linger and 
loiter on the playground until he would be among those 
who were the last to take their places. He also began 
to take less interest in his lessons, and in his stand- 
ing in the classes, and but for the care exercised at 
home would have gone to school very ill prepared. 

Frank Bowser was not by any means a bad boy. 
He had been carelessly brought up, and was by nature 
of ratlier a reckless disposition, but he generally pre- 
ferred right to wrong, and could, upon the whole, 
be trusted to behave himself under ordinary circum- 
stances, at all events. His influence upon Bert, while 
it certainly would not help him much, would not harm 
him seriously. He did get him into trouble one day, 
however, in a way that Bert was long in forgetting. 

The winter had come, and over in one corner of 
the playground was a slide of unusual length and 
excellence, upon which the Garrison boys had fine 
times every day before and after school. Coming up 
one morning early, on purpose to enjoy this slide, 
Bert w^as greatly disappointed to find it in possession 
of a crowd of gamins from the upper streets, who 
clearly intended to keep it all to themselves so long 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


95 


as they pleased. Wliile Bert, standing at a safe dis- 
tance, was watching the usurpers with longing eyes, 
Shorty came up, and, taking in the situation, said : 

Let ’em alone, Bert ; I know of another slide 
just as good, a couple of squares off. Let’s go over 
there.” 

But, isn’t it most school time ? ” objected Bert. 

“ Why, no,” replied Shorty. “ There’s ten minutes 
yet. Come along.” And thus assured, Bert com- 
plied. 

The slide was farther away than Shorty had said, 
but proved to be very good when they did reach it, 
and they enjoyed it so much that tlie time slipped 
away unheeded, until presently the town clock on the 
hill above them boomed out ten, in notes of solemn 
warning. 

My sakes ! ” exclaimed Bert, in alarm. There’s 
ten o’clock. What will we do ? ” 

Guess we’d better not go to school at all. Mr. 
Garrison will never miss us,” suggested Shorty. 

Do you mean to meech ? ” asked Bert, with some 
indignation. 

That’s about it,” was the reply. ‘‘What’s the 
harm ? ” 

“ Why, you know it ain’t right ; I’m not going to 
do it, if you are.” And Bert really meant what he 
said. 

But, as luck would have it, on their way back to 
the school what should they meet but that spectacle. 


96 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


one of the most attractive of the winter sights in the 
eyes of a Halifax schoolboy, a fireman’s sleigh drive. 
Driving gayly along the street, between lines of 
spectators, came sleigh after sleigh, drawn by four, six, 
or even eight carefully-matched and brightly-decked 
horses, and filled to overfiowing with the firemen and 
their fair friends, while bands of music played merry 
tunes, to which the horses seemed to step in time. 

Bert and Shorty had of course to stop and see this 
fine sight, and it chanced that when it was about one- 
half passed, one of the big eight-horse teams got 
tangled up with a passing sleigh, and a scene of con- 
fusion ensued that took a good while to set right. 
When at length all was straightened out, and the pro- 
cession of sleighs had passed. Shorty asked a gentle- 
man to tell him the time. 

“ Five minutes to eleven, my lad,” was the startling 
reply. 

Shorty looked significantly at Bert. Most too 
late now, don’t you think ? ” 

Bert hesitated. He shrank from the ordeal of en- 
tering the crowded schoolroom, and being detected 
and punished by Mr. Garrison, in the presence of all 
the others. Yet he felt that it would be better to do 
that than not go to school at all — in other words, 
meech. 

^^Oh, come along, Bert,” said Shorty; ^^old Garri- 
son can do without us to-day.” 

Still Bert stood irresolute. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


97 


Let’s go down and see the big steamer that came 
in last night,” persisted Shorty, who was determined 
not to go to school, and to keep Bert from going, too. 

Yielding more to Shorty’s influence than to the at- 
traction of the steamer, Bert gave way, and spent the. 
rest of the morning playing about, until it was the 
usual time for going home. 

He said nothing at home about what he had done, 
and the next morning went back to school, hoping, 
with all his heart, that his absence had not been 
noted, and that no questions would be asked. 

But it was not to be. 

Soon after the opening of the school, when all were 
assembled and quiet obtained, Mr. Garrison sent a 
thrill of expectation through the boys by calling 
out, in severe tones, while his face was clouded with 
anger : 

Frank Bowser and Cuthbert Lloyd come to the 
desk.” 

With pale faces and drooping heads the boys 
obeyed, Frank whispering in Bert’s ear as they 
went up : 

‘^Tell him you were kept at home.” 

Trembling in every nerve, the two culprits stood 
before their teacher. Mr. Garrison was evidently 
much incensed. A spasm of reform had seized 
him. His eyes had been opened to the prevalence 
of ‘^meeching,” and he determined to put a stop 
to it by making an example of the present of- 
G 


98 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


fenders. He had missed them both from school 
the day before, and suspected the cause. 

Young gentlemen/^ said he, in his most chilling 
tones, ^^you were absent yesterday. Have you any 
reason to give?’^ 

Frank, without answering, looked at Bert, while 
the whole school held their breath in suspense. Bert 
remained silent. It was evident that a sharp struggle 
was going on within. Becoming impatient, Mr. 
Garrison struck the desk with his hands, and said, 
sternly : 

Answer me this moment. Have you any ex- 
cuse ? 

With a quick, decided movement, Bert lifted his 
head, and looking straight into Mr. Garrison’s face 
with his big brown eyes, said, clearly: 

^^No, sir. I meeched.” 

Quite taken aback by this frank confession, Mr. 
Garrison paused a moment, and then, turning to 
Frank, asked: 

^^And how about you, sir?” 

Without lifting his head, Frank muttered, 
meeched, too,” in tones audible only to his ques- 
tioner. 

So pleased was Mr. Garrison with Bert’s honesty, 
that he would have been glad to let him off with 
a reprimand; but the interests of good discipline 
demanded sterner measures. Accordingly, he called 
to one of his monitors: 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


99 


^^Munro, will you please go over to the Acadian 
School and get the strap?” 

For be it known that Mr. Garrison shared the 
ownership of a strap with his brother, who taught 
a school in an adjoining block, and had to send 
for it when a boy was to be punished. 

While Munro was gone, Bert and Frank stood 
before the desk, both feeling deeply their position, 
and dreading what was yet to come. When Munro 
returned, bearing the strap, — a business-like looking 
affair about two feet in length, — Mr. Garrison laid 
it on the desk, and seemed very reluctant to put 
it in use. At length, overcoming his disinclination, 
he rose to his feet, and, taking it up, said : 

Cuthbert Lloyd, come forward ! ” 

Bert, his head drooping upon his breast, and his 
face flushed and pale by turns, moved slowly for- 
ward. Grasping the strap, Mr. Garrison raised it 
to bring it down upon Bert’s outstretched hand, 
when suddenly a thought struck him that brought 
a look of immense relief to his countenance, and 
he arrested the movement. Turning to the boys, who 
were watching him with wondering eyes, he said : 

^^Boys, I ask for your judgment. If Bert and 
Frank say, before you all, that they are sorry for 
what they have done, and will promise never to do 
it again, may I not relieve them of the whipping?” 

A hearty and unanimous chorus of Yes, sir,” 
“Yes, sir,” came from the school at once. 


100 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

Now, my lads, do you hear that ? ” continued Mr. 
Garrison in a kindly tone, turning to the two offenders. 
‘‘ Will you not say you are sorry, and will never meech 
again.” 

‘‘ I am sorry, and promise never to do so again,” 
said Bert, in a clear distinct voice, as the tears gathered 
in his eyes. 

I’m sorry, and won’t do it again,” echoed Frank, 
in a lower tone. 

That’s right, boys,” said Mr. Garrison, his face 
full of pleasure. I am sure you mean every word 
of it. Go to your seats now, and we will resume 
work.” 

It took the school some little time to settle down 
again after this unusual and moving episode, the effect 
of which was to raise both Mr. Garrison and Bert a 
good deal higher in the estimation of every one 
present, and to put a check upon the practice of 
^^meeching” that went far toward effecting a com- 
plete cure. 

Although the result had been so much better than 
he expected, Bert felt his disgrace keenly, and so soon 
as he got home from school he told the whole story from 
the start to his mother, making no excuses for himself, 
but simply telling the truth. 

His mother, of course, was very much surprised and 
pained, but knew well that her boy needed no further 
reproaches or censure to realize the full extent of his 
wrong doing. Bidding him therefore seek forgive- 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


101 


ness of God as well as of her, she said that she would 
tell his father all about it, which was a great relief to 
Bert, who dreaded lest he sliould have to perform 
this trying task himself ; and so the matter rested for 
the time. 


CHAPTEE XII. 


A QUESTION OF INFLUENCE. 


HEN Mr. Lloyd heard the story of Bert’s 



meeching/’ it was evident that it hurt him 
sorely. He was quite prepared for a reasonable 
amount of waywardness in his boy, but this seriously 
exceeded his expectations. He could not, of course, 
put himself exactly in Bert’s place, and he was in- 
dined to think him guilty of far more deliberate 
wrong than poor Bert had for a moment contem- 
plated. 

Then again, he was much puzzled as to what should 
be done with reference to Frank Bowser. He had 
evidently been Bert’s tempter, and Bert ought perhaps 
to be forbidden to have any more to do with him than 
he could possibly help. On the other hand, if Bert 
were to be interdicted from the companionship of his 
schoolmates, how would he ever learn to take care of 
himself among other dangerous associations? This 
w'as a lesson he must learn some day. Should he not 
begin now? 

So Mr. Lloyd was not a little bewildered, and his 
talk with Bert did not give him much light; for while 
Bert, of course, w^as thoroughly penitent and ready to 
promise anything, what he had to tell about Frank 


102 


BEBT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


103 


was simply how good natured, and generous, and 
plucky he was, and so forth. 

The three of them, father, mother, and sister, held 
a consultation over the matter that night after Bert 
had gone to bed. 

“ I wish I felt more sure as to what is the wisest 
thing to do,^^ said Mr. Lloyd. We can’t keep Bert 
in a glass case, and yet it seems as if we should do 
our best to protect him from every evil influence. I 
would like to know more about that Bowser bov.’^ 
Bert tells me he has no mother,” said Mrs. Lloyd, 
in sympathetic tones, “and from what he says himself, 
his father does not seem to take much interest in him. 
Poor boy ! he cannot have much to help him at that 
rate.” 

“ He’s a good, sturdy little chap,” put in Mary. 
“ He came down from school with Bert one day. He 
seems very fond of him.” 

“ Well, what had we better do?” asked Mr. Lloyd. 
“ Forbid Bert to make a companion of him, or say 
nothing about it, and trust Bert to come out all 
right?” 

“ I feel as though we ought to forbid^Bert,” answered 
Mrs. Lloyd. “Frank Bowser’s influence cannot help 
him much, and it may harm him a good deal.” 

“ Suppose you put that the other way, mother,” 
spoke up Mary, her face flushing under the inspira- 
tion of the thought that had just occurred to her. 
“ Frank Bowser has no help at home, and Bert has. 


104 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Why. then, not say that Bert’s influence cannot harm 
Frank, and it may help him a good deal?” 

^^Mary, my dear,” exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, bending 
over to pat her affectionately on the shoulder, that’s 
a brilliant idea of yours. You’re right. Bert should 
help Frank, and not let Frank harm him. We must 
make Bert understand that clearly, and then there 
Avill be nothing to fear.” 

And so the consultation closed, with Mary bearing 
off* the honors of having made the best suggestion. 

It was acted upon without delay. Calling Bert to 
him next morning while they were awaiting breakfast, 
Mr. Lloyd laid the matter before him : 

‘•Bert,” said he, kindly, “ we were talking about 
you last night, and wondering whether we ought to 
forbid your making a companion of Frank Bowser. 
What do you think?” 

“Oh, father, don’t do that,” answered Bert, looking 
up with a startled expression. “He’s been so good to 
me. You remember how he served Bob Brandon 
for shoving me down in class?” 

“Yes, Bert; but I’m afraid he’s leading you into 
mischief, and that is not the sort of companion I want 
for you.” 

Bert dropped his head again. He had no answer 
ready this time. 

“But then there are always two sides to a question, 
Bert,” continued Mr. Lloyd, while Bert pricked up 
his ears hopefully. “Why should you not help 


BEKT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


105 


Frank to keep out of mischief, instead of his leading 
you into it? What do you say to that?” 

Bert did not seem quite to understand, so his father 
went on: 

‘‘Don’t you see, Bert? You must either help 
Frank to be better, or he will cause you to be worse. 
Now, which is it to be?” 

Bert saw it clearly now. 

“Why, father,” he cried, his face beaming with 
gladness at this new turn to the situation, “ I’ll do 
my best to be a good boy, and I know Shorty wdll, 
too, for he always likes to do what I do.” 

“Very well then, Bert,” said Mr. Lloyd, “that’s a 
bargain. And now, suppose you invite Frank, or 
‘Shorty,’ as you call him, to spend next Saturday 
afternoon with you, and take tea with us.” 

“Oh, father, that will be splendid,” cried Bert, de- 
lightedly. “ We can coast in the fort all the afternoon 
and have fun in the evening. I’m sure Shorty will 
be so glad to come.” 

The question thus satisfactorily settled, Bert took 
his breakfast, and went off to school in high glee and. 
great impatience to see Frank, for the invitation he 
bore for him fairly burned in his mouth, so to speak. 

As he expected, Frank needed no pressing to accept 
it. He did not get many invitations, poor chap ! and 
the prospect of an afternoon at Bert’s home seemed 
very attractive to him. He did enjoy himself thor- 
oughly, too, even if he was so shy and awkward that 


106 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


Mrs. Lloyd and Mary were afraid to say very much 
to him; he seemed to find it so hard to answer 
them. 

But Mr. Lloyd got on much better with him. 
Although his boyhood was a good ways in the past, he 
kept its memories fresh, and could enter heartily into the 
discussion of any of the sports the younger generation 
delighted in. He knew all the phrases peculiar to 
baseball, cricket, marbles, and so forth, and fairly 
astonished Frank by his intimate knowledge of those 
amusements, so that ere long Frank, without knowing 
just how it happened, was chatting away as freely as 
though he were out on the Garrison playground instead 
of being in Mr. Lloyd’s parlor. 

Having once gotten him well started, Mr. Lloyd led 
him on to talk about himself and his home, and his 
way of spendiug his time, and thus learned a great 
deal more about him than he had yet known. One 
fact that he learned pointed out a way in which Bert’s 
influence could be exerted for good at once. Frank 
attended no Sunday-school. He went to church some- 
times, but not very often, as his father took little 
interest in church-going, but he never went to Sun- 
day-school ; in fact, he had not been there for years. 
Mr. Lloyd said nothing himself on the subject to 
Frank. He thought it better to leave it all to Bert. 

After Frank had gone, leaving behind him a very 
good impression, upon the whole, Mr. Lloyd told Bert 
of the opportunity awaiting him. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


107 


Wouldn’t you like to ask Frank to go with you 
to Sunday-school, Bert?” he inquired. 

“ Of course, I would, father,” replied Bert, promptly ; 

and I’m sure he’d go, too, and that Mr. Silver would 
be very glad to have him in our class.” 

When Bert, however, came to talk to Frank about 
it, he found him not quite so willing to go as he 
had been to accept the invitation for Saturday. 

^‘I’m not anxious to go to Sunday-school, Bert,” 
said he. “ I sha’n’t know anybody there but you, and 
it’ll be awfully slow.” 

^^But you’ll soon get to know plenty of people,” 
urged Bert ; and Mr. Silver is so nice.” 

And so they argued, Frank holding back, partly 
because his shyness made him shrink from going into 
a strange place, and partly because, having been accus- 
tomed to spend his Sunday afternoons pretty much as 
he pleased, he did not like the idea of giving up 
his liberty. But Bert was too much in earnest to be 
put off The suggestion of his father that he should 
try to do Frank some good had taken strong hold 
upon his mind, and he urged, and pleaded, and argued 
until, at last, Frank gave way, and promised to try 
the Sunday-school for a while, at any rate. 

Bert reported the decision at home with much pride 
and satisfaction. He bad no doubt that when once 
Frank found out Avhat a pleasant place the Sunday- 
school was, and how kind and nice Mr. Silver — ^his 
teacher there — was, he would want to go every Sunday. 


108 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


The Sunday-school of Calvary Baptist Church cer- 
tainly had about as pleasant and cheery quarters as 
could be desired. For one thing, it was not held in a 
damp, dark, unventilated basement as so many Sun- 
day-schools are. 

And, oh, what a shame — what an extraordinary 
perversion of sense this condemning of the children 
to the cellars of the churches is! Just as though any- 
thing were good enough for them, when in them lies 
the hope of the church, and every possible means 
should be employed to twine their young affections 
about it ! But these words do not apply to the 
Calvary Sunday-school, for it was not held in a dingy 
basement, but in a separate building that united 
in itself nearly every good quality such an edifice 
should possess. It w^as of ample size, full of light 
and air, had free exposure to the sunshine, and was so 
arranged that every convenience was offered for the 
work of the school. Around the central hall were 
arranged rooms for the Bible classes, the infant class, 
and the library, so planned that by throwing up slid- 
ing doors they became part of the large room. The 
walls were hung with pictures illustrating Bible scenes, 
and with mottoes founded upon Bible texts: and 
finally, the benches were of a special make that was 
particularly comfortable. 

All this was quite a revelation to Frank when, after 
some little coaxing, Bert brought him to the school. 
His conception of a Sunday-school was of going down 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 109 

into a gloomy basement, and being lectured about the 
Bible by a severe old man with a long gray beard. 
Instead of that, he found himself in one of the 
brightest rooms he had ever seen, and receiving a 
cordial welcome from a handsome young gentleman, 
to whom Bert had just said : 

‘^This is my friend Frank, Mr. Silver. He’s going 
to come to school with me after this.” 

^‘‘Very glad indeed to have you, Frank,” said Mr. 
Silver, giving him a warm grasp of the hand. ‘^Sit 
right down with Bert, and make yourself at home.” 

And Frank sat down, so surprised and pleased with 
everything as to be half inclined to wonder if he was 
not dreaming. Then the fine singing, as the whole 
school, led by an organ and choir, burst forth into 
song, the bright pleasant remarks of the superintend- 
ent, Mr. Hamilton, Bert’s ideal of a “ Christian 
soldier,” and the simple earnest prayer offered, — all 
impressed Frank deeply. 

No less interesting did he find Mr. Silver’s teaching 
of the lesson. Mr. Silver attached great importance 
to his work in the Sunday-school. Nothing was per- 
mitted to interfere with thorough preparation for it, 
and he always met his class brimful of information, 
illustration, and application, bearing upon the passage 
appointed for the day. And not only so, -but by 
shrewd questioning and personal appeal he sent the 
precious words home to his young hearers and fixed 
them deep in their memories. He was a rare teacher 


110 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


in many respects, and Bert was very fond of him. 
Frank did not fail to be attracted by him. As he and 
Bert left the school together, Bert asked : 

‘^Well, Frank, how do you like my Sunday- 
school .? ” 

First rate,” replied Frank, heartily. “ Say, but 
isn’t Mr. Silver nice? Seems as though I’d known 
him for ever so long instead of just to-day.” 

‘‘Guess he is nice,” said Bert. “He’s just the 
best teacher in the school. You’ll come every Sunday 
now, won’t you, Frank?” 

“I think so;” answered Frank; “I might just as 
well be going there as loafing about on Sunday after- 
noon doing nothing.” 

Mr. Lloyd was very much pleased when he heard 
of Bert’s success in getting Frank to the Sunday- 
school. He recognized in Bert many of those quali- 
ties which make a boy a leader among his compan- 
ions, and his desire was that his son’s influence should 
always tell for that which was manly, pure, and up- 
right. To get him interested in recruiting for the 
Sunday-school was a very good beginning in church 
work, and Mr. Lloyd felt thankful accordingly. 

Neither was he alone in feeling pleased and thank- 
ful. Mr. John Bowser, Frank’s father, although he 
showed great indifference to both the intellectual and 
moral welfare of his boy, was, nevertheless, not 
opposed to others taking an interest in him. He 
cared too little about either church or Sunday-school 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Ill 


to see that Frank was a regular attendant. But 
he was very willing that somebody else should take 
an interest in the matter. Moreover, he felt not a 
little complacency over the fact that his son was 
chosen as a companion by Lawyer Lloyd’s son. 
Engrossed as he was in the making of money, a big, 
burly, grufip, uncultured contractor, he found time 
somehow to acquire a great respect for Mr. Lloyd. 
He thought him rather too scrupulous and straight- 
forward a man to be his lawyer, but he admired him 
greatly, nevertheless; and, although he said nothing 
about it, secretly congratulated himself upon the way 
things were going. He had little idea that the circle 
of influence Bert had unconsciously started would 
come to include him before its force would be spent. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


BERT AT HOME. 

I T was an article of faith in the Lloyd family that 
there was not a house in Halifax having a pleas- 
anter situation than theirs, and they certainly had 
very good grounds for their belief. Something has 
already been told about its splendid view of the broad 
harbor, furrowed with white-capped waves, when of 
an afternoon, the breeze blew in smartly from the 
great ocean beyond; of its snug security from north- 
ern blasts; of the cosy nook it had to itself in a quiet 
street; and of its ample exposure to the sunshine. 
But, perhaps, the chief charm of all was the old fort 
whose grass-grown casemates came so close to the foot 
of the garden, that ever since Bert was big enough to 
jump, he had cherished a wild ambition to leap from 
tlie top of the garden fence to the level top of the 
nearest casemate. 

This old fort, with its long, obsolete, muzzle loading 
thirty-two pounders, was associated with Bert’s ear- 
liest recollection. His nurse had carried him there 
to play about in the long, rank grass underneath 
the shade of the wide-spreading willows that crested 
the seaward slope before he was able to walk; and 
112 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


113 


ever since, summer and winter, he had found it his 
favorite playground. 

The cannons were an unfailing source of delight 
to him. Mounted high upon their cumbrous car- 
riages, with little pyramids of round iron balls that 
would never have any other use than that of orna- 
ment lying beside them, they made famous playthings. 
He delighted in clambering up and sitting astride their 
smooth, round bodies as though they were horses; or 
in peering into the mysterious depths of their muz- 
zles. Indeed, once when he was about five years old 
he did more than peer in. He tried to crawl in, and 
thereby ran some risk of injury. 

He had been playing ball with some of the soldier’s 
children, and seemed so engrossed in the amusement 
that his mother, who had taken him into the fort, 
thought he might very well be left for a while, and 
so she went off some little distance to rest in quiet, in 
a shady corner. She had not been there more than a 
quarter of an hour, when she was startled by the cries 
of the children, who seemed much alarmed over 
something; and hastening back to where she had left 
Bert, she beheld a sight that would have been most 
ludicrous if it had not been so terrifying. 

Protruding from the mouth of one of the cannons, 
and kicking very vigorously, were two sturdy, mottled 
legs that she instantly recognized as belonging to her 
son, while from the interior came strange muffled 
sounds that showed the poor little fellow was screaming 
H 


114 


BEET LI.0YD'S BOYHOOD. 


ill dire affright, as well he might in so distressing a 
situation. Too young to be of any help, Bert’s play- 
mates were gathered about him crying lustily, only 
one of them having had the sense to run off to the 
carpenter’s shop near by to secure assistance. 

Mrs. Lloyd at once grasped Bert’s feet and strove 
to pull him out, but found it no easy matter. In his 
efforts to free himself, he had only stuck the more firmly, 
and was now too securely fastened for Mrs. Lloy^d to 
extricate him. Fortunately, however, a big soldier 
came along at this juncture, and slipping both hands 
as far up on Bert’s body as he could reach, grasped 
him firmly, and with one strong, steady pull drew 
him out of the cannon. 

When he got him out, Bert presented so comical 
a spectacle that his stalwart rescuer had to lay him 
down and laugh, until the tears rolled down his 
cheeks. Mrs. Lloyd, too, relieved from all anxiety, 
and feeling a reaction from her first fright, could not 
help following his example. His face black with 
grime which was furrowed with tears, his hands even 
blacker, his nice clothes smutched and soiled, and in- 
deed his whole appearance suggested a little chimney- 
sweep that had forgotten to put on his wmrking clothes 
before going to business. Bert certainly was enough 
to make even the gravest laugh. 

Beyond a bruise or two, he was, however, not a 
whit the worse for his curious experience, which had 
come about in this way ; While they were playing 



Bert Lloyd’s Boyhood 


Page 114 









BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


115 


with the ball, one of the children had, out of mischief, 
picked it up and thrown it into the cannon, where it 
had stayed. They tried to get it out by means of sticks, 
but could not reach it. Then Bert, always plucky 
and enterprising to the verge of rashness, undertook 
to go after the ball himself. The other boys at 
once joined forces to lift him up and push him into 
the dark cavern, and then alarmed by his cries and 
unavailing struggles to get out again, began to cry 
tliemselves, and thus brought Mrs. Lloyd to the 
scene. 

Mr. Lloyd was very much amused when he heard 
about Bert’s adventure. 

You’ve beaten Shakespeare, Bert,” said he, after a 
hearty laugh, as Mrs. Lloyd graphically described the 
occurrence. For Shakespeare says a man does not 
seek the bubble reputation in tlie cannon’s mouth, 
until he becomes a soldier, but you have found it, 
unless I am much mistaken, before you have fairly 
begun being a schoolboy.” 

Bert did not understand the reference to Shake- 
speare, but he did understand tliat his father was not 
displeased with him, and that was a much more im- 
portant matter. The next Sunday afternoon, when 
they went for their accustomed stroll in the fort, Bert 
showed his father the big gun whose dark interior he 
had attempted to explore. 

Oh, but, father, wasn’t I frightened when I got in 
there, and couldn’t get out again ! ” said he, earnestly. 


116 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


clasping his father’s hand tightly, as the horror of the 
situation came back to him. 

You were certainly in a tight place, little man,” 
answered Mr. Lloyd, ‘^and the next time your ball 
gets into one of the cannons' you had better ask one 
of the artillerymen to get it out for you. He will find 
it a much easier job than getting you out.” 

Bert loved the old fort and its cannons none the 
less because of his adventure, and as he grew older 
he learned to drop down into it from the garden fence, 
and climb back again with the agility of a monkey. 
The garden itself was not very extensive, but Bert 
took a great deal of pleasure in it, too, for he was 
fond of flowers — what true boy, indeed, is not? — and 
it contained a large number within its narrow limits, 
there being no less than two score rose bushes of 
different varieties, for instance. The roses were very 
plenteous and beautiful when in their prime, but at 
opposite corners of the little garden stood two trees that 
had far more interest for Bert than all the rose trees 
put together. These were two apple trees, planted, 
no one knew just how or when, which had been 
allowed to grow up at their own will, without pruning 
or grafting, and, as a consequence, were never known 
to produce fruit that was worth eating. Every spring 
they put forth a brave show of pink and white blos- 
soms, as though this year, at all events, they were 
going to do themselves credit, and every autumn the 
result appeared in half a dozen hard, small, sour, 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


117 


withered -up apples that hardly deserved the name. 
And yet, although these trees showed no signs of re- 
pentance and amendment, Bert, with the quenchless 
hopefulness of boyhood, never quite despaired of 
their bringing forth an apple that he could eat with- 
out having his mouth drawn up into one tight pucker. 
Autumn after autumn lie would watch the slowly 
developing fruit, trusting for the best. It always 
abused his confidence, however, but it was a long 
time before he finally gave it up in despair. 

At one side of the garden stood a neat little barn 
that was also of special interest to Bert, for, besides 
the stall for the cow, there was another, still vacant, 
which Mr. Lloyd had promised should have a pony 
for its tenant so soon as Bert was old enough to be 
trusted with such a playmate. 

Hardly a day passed that Bert did not go into the 
stable and, standing by the little stall, wonder to 
himself how it w’ould look with a pretty pony in it. 
Of course, he felt very impatient to have the pony, 
but Mr. Lloyd had his own ideas upon that point, 
and was not to be moved from them. He thought 
that when Bert was ten years old would be quite 
time enough, and so there was nothing to do but to 
w^ait, which Bert did, with as much fortitude as he 
could command. 

Whatever might be the weather outside, it seemed 
always warm and sunny indoors at Bert’s home. 
The Lloyds lived in an atmosphere of love, both 


118 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


human and divine. They loved one another dearly, 
but they loved God still more, and lived close to him. 
Keligioii was not so much expressed as implied in 
their life. It was not in the least obtrusive, yet 
one could never mistake their point of view. Next 
to its sincerity, the strongest characteristic of their 
religion was its cheeriness. They saw no reason why 
the children of the King should go mourning all 
their days; on the contrary, was it not rather their 
duty, as well as their privilege, to establish the joy 
of service? 

Brought up amid such influences, Bert w'as, as a 
natural consequence, entirely free from those strange 
misconceptions of the true character of religion which 
keep so many of the young out of the kingdom. ‘ He 
saw nothing gloomy or repellent in religion. That he 
should love and serve God seemed as natural to him 
as that he should love and serve his parents. Of 
their love and care he had a thousand tokens daily. 
Of the divine love and care he learned from them, 
and that they should believe in it was all the reason 
he required for his doing the same. He asked no 
further evidence. 

There were, of course, times when the spirit of evil 
stirred within him, and moved him to rebel against 
authority, and to wish, as he put it himself one day 
when reminded of the text Thou God seest me,” 
that God would let him alone for a while, and not 
be always looking at him.” But then he wasn’t an 


BEET LLOYb’s BOYHOOD. 


119 


angel, by any means, but simply a hearty, healthy, 
happy boy, with a fair share of temper, and as much 
fondness for having his own way as the average boy 
of his age. 

His parents were very proud of him. They would 
have been queer parents if they were not. Yet they 
were careful to disguise it from him as far as possible. 
If there was one thing more than another that Mr. 
Lloyd disliked in children, and therefore dreaded for 
his boy, it was that forward, conscious air which comes 
of too much attention being paid them in the presence 
of their elders. Little folks should be seen and not 
heard,’’ he would say kindly but firmly to Bert, when 
that young person was disposed to unduly assert him- 
self, and Bert rarely failed to take the hint. 

One trait of Bert’s nature which gave his father 
great gratification was his fondness for reading. He 
never had to be taught to read. He learned himself. 
Tiiat is, he was so eager to learn that so soon as he 
had mastered the alphabet, he was always taking his 
picture books to his mother or sister, and getting them 
to spell the words for him. In this way he got over 
all his difficulties with surprising rapidity, and at five 
years of age could read quite easily. As he grew 
older, he showed rather an odd taste in his choice of 
books. One volume that he read from cover to cover 
before he was eight years old was Layard’s Nineveh.” 
Just why this portly sombre-hued volume, with its 
winged lion stamped in gold upon its back, attracted 


120 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


him so strongly, it would not be easy to say. The 
illustrations, of course, had something to do with it, 
and then the fascination of digging down deep into 
the earth and bringing forth all sorts of strange things 
no doubt influenced him. 

Anotiier book that held a wonderful charm for him 
was the Book of Revelation. So carefully did he con 
this, which he thought the most glorious of all writings, 
that at one time he could recite many chapters of it 
word for word. Its marvelous imagery appealed to 
his imagination if it did nothing more, and took such 
hold upon his mind that no part of the Bible, not 
even the stories that shine like stars through the first 
books of the Old Testament, was more interesting 
to him. 

Not only was Bert’s imagination vivid, but his 
sympathies were also very quick and easily aroused. 
It was scarcely safe to read to liim a pathetic tale, 
his tears were so certain to flow. The story of 
Gellert’s hound, faithful unto death, well nigh broke 
his heart, and that perfect pearl Bab and His 
Friends” bedewed his cheeks, although he read it 
again and again until he knew it almost by heart. 

No one ever laughed at his tenderness of heart. 
He was not taught that it was unmanly for a boy to 
weep. It is an easy thing to chill and harden an im- 
pressionable nature. It is not so easy to soften it 
again, or to bring softness to one that is too hard for 
its own good. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


121 


With such a home, Bert Lloyd could hardly fail 
be a happy boy, and no one that knew him would 
ever have thought of him as being anything else. He 
had his dull times, of course. What boy with all his 
faculties has not ? And he had his cranky spells, too. 
But neither the one nor the other lasted very long, 
and the sunshine soon not only broke through the 
clouds, but scattered them altogether. Happy are 
those natures not given to brooding over real or fan- 
cied troubles. Gloom never mends matters : it can 
only make them worse. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


AN HONOEABLE SCAR. 

B ert was not learning very much at Mr. Garri- 
son’s school. He had some glimmering of this 
himself, for he said to Frank one day, after they had 
returned to their seats from having gone through the 
form — for really it was nothing more — of saying one 
of their lessons : 

It’s mighty easy work getting through lessons at 
this school, isn’t it. Shorty ? ” And Shorty, being of the 
same opinion, as he had happened not to be asked any 
questions, and therefore had not made any mistakes, 
promptly assented. 

That’s so, Bert,” said he, and the oftener he asks 
Munro and you to say the whole lesson, and just gives 
me the go-by, the better I like it.” 

But Bert was not the only one who noticed that his 
education was not making due progress. His father 
observed it, too, and, after some thinking on the sub- 
ject, made up his mind that he would allow Bert to 
finish the spring term at Mr. Garrison’s, and then, 
after the summer holidays, send him to some other 
school. 

The winter passed away and spring drew near. 
Spring is. the most dilatory and provoking of all the 
122 


BERT Lloyd's boyhood. 


123 


seasons at Halifax. It advances and retreats, pauses 
and progresses, promises and fails to perform, until it 
really seems, sometimes, as though midsummer would 
be at hand and no spring at all. With the boys it is a 
particularly trying time of the year. The daily increas- 
ing heat of the sun has played havoc with the snow 
and ice, and winter sports are out of the question. 
Yet the snow and ice — or rather the slush they make 
— still lingers on, and renders any kind of summer 
sport impossible. For nearly a month this unsatis- 
factory state of affairs continues, and then, at length, 
the wet dries up, the frost comes out of the ground, 
the chill leaves the air, and marbles, rounders, base- 
ball, and, later on, cricket make glad the hearts and 
tire the legs of the eager boys. 

This spring was made memorable for Bert by an 
occurrence that left its mark upon him, lest, perhaps, 
he might be in danger of forgetting it. In front of 
the large building, in one room of which Mr. Garri- 
son’s school was held, there was a large open square, 
known as the Parade. It was a bare, stony place, 
kept in order by nobody, and a great resort for the 
gamins of the city, who could there do pretty much 
what they pleased without fear of interruption from 
the police. On the upper side of this square, and 
over toward the opposite end from Mr. Garrison’s, 
was another school, called the National, and having a 
large number of scholars, of a somewhat commoner 
class than those which attended Mr. Garrison’s. It 


124 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


need hardly be said that the relations between the two 
schools were, to use a diplomatic phrase, chronically 
strained.” They were always at loggerheads. A 
Garrison boy could hardly encounter a National boy 
without giving or getting a cuff, a matter determined 
by his size, and riots, on a more or less extensive scale, 
were continually taking place when groups of boys 
representing the two schools would happen to meet. 

Bert was neither quarrelsome nor pugnacious by 
nature. He disliked very much being on bad terms 
with any one, and could not understand why he should 
regard another boy as his natural enemy simply be- 
cause he happened to go to a different school. More 
than once he had quite an argument with Frank 
Bowser about it. Frank was always full of fight. 
He hated every National boy as vigorously as though 
each one had individually done him some cruel injury. 
As sure as a collision took place, and Frank was 
present, he was in the thick of it at once, dealing 
blows right and left with all his might. 

In obedience to the dictation of his own nature, 
strengthened by his father’s advice, Bert kept out of 
these squabbles so far as he possibly could, and as a 
natural consequence fell under suspicion of being a 
coward. Even Frank began to wonder if he were 
not afraid, and if it were not this which kept him 
back from active participation in the rows. He said 
something about it to Bert one day, and it hurt Bert 
very much. 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


125 


not afraid, Shorty; you know well enough 
I’m not,” said he, indignantly. But I’m not going 
to fight with fellows who never did me any harm. 
It’s wrong, that’s what it is, and I’m not going to do 
it. I don’t care what yon say.” 

But you ought to chip in sometimes, Bert, or the 
boys will think that you’re a coward,” urged Frank. 

I can’t help it if they do. Shorty,” was Bert’s 
unshaken reply. I don’t feel like it myself, and, 
what’s more, father doesn’t want me to.” 

Tiie very next day there was a row of unusual di- 
mensions, brought about by one of the Garrison boys 
at the noon recess having started a fight with one of 
the National boys, which almost in a twinkling of an 
eve involved all tlie bovs belons^ing to both schools 
then in the Parade. It was a lively seene, that would 
have gladdened the heart of an Irishman homesick 
for the excitement of Donnybrook Fair. There were 
at least one hundred boys engaged, the sides being 
pretty evenly matched, and the battle ground was the 
centre of the Parade. To drive the other school in 
ignominious flight from this spot was the object of 
each boyish regiment, and locked in hostile embrace, 
like the players in a foot-ball match when a “ maul ” 
has been formed, they swayed to and fro, now one 
side gaining, now the other, while shouts of Go in. 
Nationals!” Give it to them, Garrisons ! ” mingling 
with exclamations of anger or pain, filled the air. 

Bert was not present when the struggle began. In 


126 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


fact, it was well under way before he knew anything 
about it, as he had liiiQ^ered in the schoolroom to ask 
Mr. Garrison some question after the other boys had 
run out. On going out in the Parade, he was at first 
startled by the uproar, and then filled with an intense 
desire to be in the midst of the battle. But, re- 
membering his father’s injunctions, he paused for a 
moment irresolute. Then lie noticed that the National 
boys were gaining the advantage, and the Garrison 
boys retreating before them. The next instant he 
caught sight of Frank Bowser, who had, of course, 
been in the forefront of the fight, left unsupported by 
his comrades, and surrounded by a circle of threaten- 
ing opponents. Bert hesitated no longer. With a 
shout of ‘‘ Come on, boys ! ” he sprang down tiie 
steps, rushed across the intervening space and flung 
himself into the group around Frank, with such 
force that two of the Nationals were hurled to the 
ground, and Frank set at liberty. Inspirited by Bert’s 
gallant onset, the Garrisons returned to the charge, the 
Nationals gave way before them, and Bert was just 
about to raise the shout of victorv, when a bior hulk 
of a boy who had been hovering on the outskirts of 
the Nationals, too cowardly to come to any closer 
quarters, picked up a stone and threw it with wicked 
force, straight at Bert’s face. His aim was only too 
good. With a sharp thud, the stone struck Bert on 
his left temple,- just behind the eye, and the poor boy 
fell to the ground insensible. 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


127 


Instantly the struggle and confusion ceased, but not 
before Frank, in a passion of fury, had dealt Bert’s 
cowardly assailant a blow that sent him reeling to the 
ground, and had then sprung to his friend’s side. 

Get a doctor, some fellow,” he shouted, holding 
up the pale, calm face, down which the blood was 
trickling from an ugly wound. “Let’s carry him 
into the school ! ” 

A dozen eager volunteers came forward. Carefully 
and tenderly Bert was lifted up, and carried into the 
schoolroom, which, fortunately, Mr. Garrison had 
not yet left. Placed upon one of the benches, with 
Frank’s coat for a pillow, his head was bathed with 
cold water, and presently he revived, much to the 
relief and delight of the anxious boys standing round. 
A few minutes later the doctor arrived. With quick, 
deft fingers he stanched the wound, covered it with 
plaster, enveloped it with bandages, and then gave 
directions that Bert should be sent home in a cab 
without delay. 

“Why, Bert darling, what does this mean?” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Lloyd, as she opened the door for him. 

“Ask Frank, mother; my head’s aching too bad 
to tell you,” replied Bert, putting up his hand with a 
gesture of pain. And so, w’hile Bert lay on the sofa 
with his mother close beside him, and Mary preparing 
him a refreshing drink, Frank told the story in his 
own, rough, straightforward fashion, making it all 
so clear, with the help of a word now and then from 


128 


BEKT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Bert, that when he ended, Mrs. Lloyd, bending over 
her son, kissed him tenderly on the forehead, saying: 

‘^You know, Bert, how I dislike fighting, but I 
cannot find it in my heart to blame you this time. 
Yon acted like a hero.” 

In this opinion Mr. Lloyd, when he came home, 
fully concurred. He had not a word of blame for 
Bert, but made the boy’s heart glad by telling him to 
always stand by his friends when they were in 
trouble, and then he would never be without friends 
who would stand by him. 

Bert’s wound took some time to heal, and when it 
did heal, a scar remained that kept its place for many 
years after. But he did not suffer for naught. The 
incident was productive of good in two directions. It 
established Bert’s character for courage beyond all 
cavil, and it put an end to the unseemly rows between 
the schools. The two masters held a consultation, as 
a result of which they announced to their schools 
that any boys found taking part in such disturbances 
in future would be first publicly whipped, and then 
expelled; and this threat put an effectual stop ‘to the 
practice. 

The days and weeks slipped by, and the summer 
vacation, so eagerly looked forward to by all school- 
boys, arrived. None were more delighted at its 
arrival than Bert and Frank. Their friendship had 
grown steadily stronger from the day of their first 
acquaintance. They had few disagreements. Frank, 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


129 


although the older and larger of the two, let Bert 
take the lead in almost all cases, for Bert had the 
more active mind, and his plans were generally the 
better. Happily for the serenity of their relations, 
Bert, while he was fond enough of being the leader, 
never undertook to boss ” his companions. If they 
did not readily fall into line with him, why he simply 
fell into line with them, and that was an end of it. 
His idea of fun did not consist in being an autocrat, 
and ordering others about. He very much preferred 
that all should work together for whatever common 
purpose happened to be in their minds at the time; 
and thus it was, that of the boys who played together 
in the old fort, and waded in the shallow water that 
rippled along the sand beach at its foot, no one was 
more popular than Bert Lloyd. 

They had fine fun during this summer vacation. 
Neither Frank nor Bert went out of the city, and they 
played together every day, generally in the fort; but 
sometimes Bert would go with Frank to the Horti- 
cultural Gardens, where a number of swings made a 
great attraction for the young folk, or down to the 
point where they would ramble through the woods, 
imagining themselves brave hunters in search of bears, 
and carrying bows and arrows to help out the illusion. 

The greatest enjoyment of all, however, was to go 
out upon the water. Of course, they were not allowed 
to do this by themselves. They were too young for 
that yet, but very often Mr. Lloyd would leave his 
I 


J30 


BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 


office early in the afternoon in order to take them out 
in the pretty skiff he kept at the fort, or the whole 
family would spend the long summer evenings to- 
gether on the water. 

Bert was at his happiest then. Under his father’s 
directions he was vigorously learning to row, and it 
was very stimulating to have his mother and sister as 
spectators. They took such a lively interest in his 
progress, that he did not mind if they did laugh 
heartily, but of course not unkindly, when sometimes 
in his eagerness to take an extra big stroke he would 
“catch a crab,” and roll over on his back in the bot- 
tom of the boat, with his feet stuck up like two signals 
of distress. Bert accomplished this a good many 
times, but it did not discourage him. He was up and 
at it attain immediatelv. 

“ Don’t look at 3’our oar, boys ! Don’t look at \’our 
oar ! Keep your faces toward the stern,” Mr. Lloyd 
would call out as Bert and Frank tuo^ored a wav man- 
fully, and they, who had been watching their oars to 
make sure that they went into the water just right, 
would answer “Aye, aye, sir ! ” in true sailor fashion ; 
and then for the next few moments they would keep 
their eyes fixed straight astern, only to bring them 
back again soon to those dripping blades that had 
such a saucy way of getting crooked unless they were 
well watched. 

A more delightful place than Halifax harbor of a 
fine summer evening could hardly be desired. The 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


131 


wind, which had been busy making ‘Svhite caps” all 
the afternoon, went to rest at sundown. The ruffled 
waters sank into a glassy calm, the broad harbor be- 
coming one vast mirror in which the rich hues of the 
sunset, the long dark lines of the wharves, and the 
tall masts of the ships sleeping at their moorings were 
reflected with many a quaint curve and curious invo- 
lution. Boats of every kind, the broad-bottomed 
dory, the sharp-bowed flat, the trim keel boat, the 
long low whaler, with their jolly companies, dotted the 
placid surface, while here and there a noisy steam 
launch saucily puffed its way along, the incessant throb 
of its engine giving warning of its approach. Far 
up the harbor at their moorings off* the dockyard, the 
hu<re men-of-war formed centres around which the 
boats gathered in numerous squads, for every evening 
the band would play on board these floating castles, 
and the music never seemed more sweet than when it 
floated out over the still waters. Sometimes, too, after 
the band had ceased, the sailors woidd gather on the 
forecastle and sing their songs, as only sailors can sing, 
winning round after round of applause from their 
appreciative audience in the boats. 

All of this was very delightful to Bert. So, too, was 
the paddling about on the beach that fringed the bot- 
tom of the fort’s grassy slope, and the making of minia- 
ture forts out of the warm, dry sand, only to have them 
dissolve again before the advancing tide. Just as de- 
lightful, too, was the clambering over the boulders that 


132 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


marked the ruins of an old pier, searching for peri- 
winkles, star-fish, and limpets, with never-ceasing 
wonder at the tenacity with which they held on to the 
rocks. Playing thus in the sunshine almost from dawn 
to dark, Bert grew visibly bigger and browner and 
sturdier, as the days slipped swiftly by. 


CHAPTER Xy. 


A CHANGE OF SCHOOLS. 


ITH the coming of September the holidays 



* * ended, and the question of schools once more 
was earnestly discussed in the Lloyd household. 

I have quite made up my mind not to send Bert 
back to Mr. Garrison,” said Mr. Lloyd. He seems 
to be learning little or nothing there. The fact of the 
matter is, what he does learn, he learns at home, and 
Mr. Garrison simply hears him recite his lessons.” 

ThaPs very true,” assented Mrs. Lloyd. I am 
only too glad to help Bert all I can in his studies, but 
I do not see the propriety of our having the greater 
part of the work of teaching him ourselves when we 
are at the same time paying some one else to do it. 
Do you, Mary ? ” she added, turning to her daughter. 

No, mother,” replied Mary. I suppose it is not 
quite fair. Yet I would feel sorry if Bert went to a 
school where everything was done for him, and noth- 
ing left for us to do. I like to help him. He gets 
hold of an idea so quickly ; it is a pleasure to explain 
anything to him.” 

^^It seems to me that a school where there is a 
good deal of healthful rivalry among the boys would 
be the best place for Bert. He is very ambitious, and 


133 


134 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


eager to be at the top, and in a school of that kind his 
energies would be constantly stimulated/^ said Mr. 
Lloyd. ^^What do you think, Kate?^^ addressing his 
wife. 

think that would be very good, indeed,’^ an- 
swered Mrs. Lloyd. But do you know of any such 
school ? 

“ I have been hearing good accounts of Dr. J ohn- 
ston’s school, and he certainly seems to have a great 
deal of system in his methods, so that I am inclined 
to give him a trial.’^ 

^^Oh, Dr. Johnston^s is a splendid school, spoke 
up Mary, with enthusiasm. Both of Edie Strong’s 
brothers go there, and I have often heard them tell ' 
about it. But isn’t Bert too young for it yet ? He’s 
only nine, you know, and they arc mostly big boys 
who go to Dr. Johnston’s.” 

Not a bit !” said Mr. Lloyd, emphatically. ^^Not 
a bit! True, Bert is only nine, but he looks more 
like twelve, and thinks and acts like it, too. It will 
be all the better for him to be with boys a little older 
than himself. He will find it hard to hold his own 
among them, and that will serve to strengthen and 
develop him.” 

^^Poor little chap!” said Mrs. Lloyd, tenderly, 
expect he will have a pretty hard time of it at 
first. I wish Frank were going with him, for he 
thinks all the world of Bert, and is so much older and 
bigger that he could be a sort of protector for him.” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 135 

I’m glad you mentioned Frank, Kate,” exclaimed 
Mr. Lloyd. You’ve given me an idea. If I decide 
to send Bert to Dr. Johnston’s, I will make a point of 
seeing Mr. Bowser, to ask him if he will not consent 
to send Frank, too. I hardly expect he will make 
any objection, as it is not likely there will be any 
difference in the expense.” 

^^Oh, I do hope Frank will go, too,” cried Mary, 
clapping her hands. If he does, I shall feel ever so 
much easier about Bert. Frank is so fond of him 
that he won’t let him be abused, if he can help it.” 

^^Very well, then,” said Mr. Lloyd, bringing the 
conversation to a close. I will make some further 
inquiries about Dr. Johnston’s, and if the results are 
satisfactory I will see Mr. Bowser, and do what I can 
to persuade him to let Frank accompany Bert.” 

A few days after, Mr. Lloyd called Bert to him, 
while tliey were all sitting in the parlor, just after 
dinner. 

Come here, Bert,” said he. I want to have a 
talk with you about going to school. You know I 
don’t intend you to go back to Mr. Garrison’s. Now, 
where would you like to go yourself? ” 

Oh, I don’t know, father,” replied Bert. I 
don’t want to go to the Acadian or National School, 
anyway.” 

You need not feel troubled on that score. So far 
as I can learn, they are no better than the one you 
have been going to. But w^hat do you think of Dr. 


136 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


Johnston’s school ? How would you like to become 
a pupil there ? ” 

Oh, father,” exclaimed Bert, looking up, with a 
face expressive of both surprise and concern, 
not big enough for that school. They’re all big boys 
that go there.” 

But you’re a big boy, — for your age, at all events, 
— Bert,” returned Mr. Lloyd, with a reassuring smile, 
and you’ll soon grow to be as big as any of them.” 

But, father,” objected Bert, they’re awfully 
rough there, and so hard on the new fellows. They 
always hoist them.” 

Hoist them ? ” inquired Mr. Lloyd. What do 
you mean ? 

Why, they hang them up on the fence, and then 
pound them. It hurts awfully. Bobbie Simpson 
told me about it. They hoisted him the first day.” 

“ Humph ! ” said Mr. Lloyd. “ I must say I don’t 
like that, but at the worst I suppose you can survive 
it, just as the others have done. Is there any other 
reason why you wouldn’t like to go to Dr. John- 
ston’s ? ” 

Well, father, you know he has a dreadful strap, 
most a yard long, and he gives the boys dreadful 
whippings with it.” 

Suppose he has, Bert ; does he whip the boys who 
know their lessons, and behave properly in school ? ” 
asked Mr. Lloyd, with a quizzical glance at his 
son. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


137 


Bert laughed. Of course not, father,” said he. 
“ He only whips the bad boys.” 

Then why should his long strap be an objection, 
Bert? You don’t propose to be one of the bad boys, 
do you ? ” 

Of course not, father; but I might get a whipping, 
all the same.” 

‘‘ We’ll hope not, Bert; we’ll hope not. And now, 
look here. Would you like it any better going to Dr. 
Johnston’s if Frank were to go with you ? ” 

■ Oh, yes indeed, father,” exclaimed Bert, his face 
lighting up. ‘^If Frank goes too, I won’t mind 
it.” 

All right then, Bert ; I am glad to say that Frank 
is going, too. I went to see his father to-day, and he 
agreed to let him go, so I suppose we may consider 
the matter settled, and next Monday you two boys 
will go with me to the school.” And Mr. Lloyd, evi- 
dently well-pleased at having reconciled Bert to the 
idea of the new school, took up his paper, while Bert 
went over to his mother’s side to have a talk with her 
about it. 

Mrs. Lloyd felt all a mother’s anxiety regarding this 
new phase of life upon which her boy was about to 
enter. Dr. Johnston’s was the largest and most re- 
nowned school in the city. It was also in a certain 
sense the most aristocratic. Its master charged high 
rates, which only well-to-do people could afford, and 
as a consequence the sons of the wealthiest citizens at- 


138 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


tended his school. Because of this, it was what 
would be called select; and just in that very fact lay 
one of the dangers Mrs. Lloyd most dreaded. Rich 
men’s sons may be select from a social point of view, 
but they are apt to be quite the reverse from the 
moral standpoint. Frank Bowser, with all his clum- 
siness and lack of good manners, would be a far 
safer companion than Dick Wilding, the graceful, easy- 
mannered heir of the prosperous bank president. 

On the other hand, the school was undoubtedly the 
best in the city. A long line of masters had handed 
down from one to the other its fame as a home of the 
classics and mathematics with unimpaired lustre. At no 
other school could such excellent preparation for the 
university be obtained, and Bert in due time was to 
go to the university. Many a long and serious talk 
had Mr. and Mrs. Llovd over the matter. True, 
they had great confidence in their boy, and in the 
principles according to which they had sought to 
bring him up. But then he was their only boy, and 
if their confidence should perchance be found to have 
been misplaced, how could the damage be repaired ? 
Ah ! well, they could, after all, only do their best, and 
leave the issue with God. They could not always be 
Bert’s shields. He must learn to fight his own battles, 
and it was as well for him to begin now, and at Dr. 
Johnston’s school. 

Bert himself took quite a serious view of the 
matter, too. He was a more than ordinarilv thought- 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


139 


fill boy, and the prospect of going to Dr. Johnston’s 
made his brain very busy. While the school was not 
without its attractions for him, there were many 
reasons why he shrank from going to it. The 
most of the boys were, as he knew from often seeing 
them when on. his way to and from Mr. Garrison’s, 
older and bigger than himself, and, still worse, they 
were strangers to him with one or two exceptions. 
Of course, since Frank was to go with him, he would 
not mind that so much, but it ccunted for a good deal, 
notwithstanding. 

Then he had heard startling stories of Dr. John- 
ston’s severity ; of his keeping boys in after school for 
a whole afternoon; of the tremendous whij^pings he 
gave with that terrible strap of his, the tails of which 
had, according to popular rumor, been first soaked in 
vinegar, and then studded with small shot; of the 
rio^orous care with which the lessons were heard, everv 
boy in the class having to show that he was well pre- 
pared, or to take the consequences. These, and other 
stories which had reached Bert’s ears, now perturbed 
him greatly. 

At the same time, he had no idea of drawing back, 
and pleading with his father to send him somewhere 
else. He saw clearly enough that both his father and 
mother had quite made up their minds that it would 
be the best thing for him, and he knew better than to 
trouble them with vain protests. He found his sister 
an inexpressible comfort at this time. He confided 


140 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


in her unreservedly, and her sweet, serene, trustful 
way of looking at things cleared away many a diffi- 
culty for him. It was easy to look at the bright side 
of affairs with Mary as an adviser, and the more 
Bert talked with her, the more encouraged he became. 
It was a happy coincidence, that on the Sunday pre- 
ceding Bert’s entrance into Dr. Johnston’s school, the 
lesson for tlie Sabbath-school should contain these 
ringing words: Quit you like men; be strong.” 
Mr. Silver had much to say about them to his 
class : 

Only six simple words of one syllable each, boys,” 
said he, as he gatliered his scholars close about his 
chair, ^^but they mean a great deal. And yet, we do 
not need to look into some wise old commentator to 
tell us just what they do mean, for we can all under- 
stand them ourselves. They are not intended solely 
for grown-up people, either. They are for boys just 
like you. Now, let us look into them a bit. ‘Quit 
you like men.’ What kind of men, Bert? Any 
kind at all, or some particular kind?” 

“Like good men, of course,” replied Bert, promptly. 

“Yes, Bert, that’s right. And what does it mean 
to quit yourself like a good man?” asked Mr. Silver, 
again. 

“To be always manly, and not be a baby,” answered 
Walter Thomson, with a vigor that brought a smile 
to Mr. Silver’s face. 

“ Eight you are, Walter; but is that all?” 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


141 


said Will Murray, ^‘it means to do only 
what is right.’’ 

‘‘That’s it, Will. To be always manly, and to do 
only what is right. Now, boys, do you know that 
you are very apt to confuse these two things, and by 
forming mistaken notions as to what constitutes the 
first, you fail to do the second? Many boys think 
that it is manly to swear, to use tobacco, to be out 
late at night hanging round the street corners, and so 
they do all these things, although they are not right 
things to do. Have they the right ideas of manliness, 
boys?” 

“No, sir; no, sir,” answered the thoroughly inter- 
ested class, in full chorus. 

“No, indeed, boys, they have not,” continued Mr. 
Silver. “There is over a hundred times more manliness 
in refusing to form those bad habits than in yielding 
to them. And that is just the kind of manliness I 
want all the boys of my class to have. ‘ Quit you 
like men,’ boys, and then, ‘ be strong.’ What does 
that mean?” 

“To keep up your muscle,” spoke out Frank, much 
to the surprise of everybody, for, although he listened 
attentively enough, he very rarely opened his mouth 
in the class. 

Mr. Silver smiled. It was not just the answer he 
wanted, but he would not discourage Frank by 
saying so. 

“That’s part of the answer, but not quite the whole 


142 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


of it,” he said, after a pause. ^^It’s a good thing for 
boys to keep up their muscle. God wants what is 
best in this world, and we can often serve him with 
our muscle as well as with our minds. If Samson 
and Gideon and David had not been men of muscle, 
they could not have done such grand work for God 
as they did. I like to see a boy with legs and arms 
‘as liard as nails,’ as they say. But the words ‘be 
strong’ here mean more than that, don’t they, Bert?” 

“They mean to be strong in resisting temptation, 
don’t they, Mr. Silver?” replied Bert. 

“Yes; that’s just it. Quit you like men — be 
manly, and be strong to resist temptation. Now, 
boys, some people think that young chaps like you 
don’t have many temptations. That you have to 
wait until you grow up for that. But it’s a tremen- 
dous mistake, isn’t it? You all have your tempta- 
tions, and lots of them, too. And they are not all 
alike; by any means, either. Every boy has his own 
peculiar difficulties, and finds his own obstacles in the 
way of right doing. But the cure is the same in all 
cases. It is to be strong in the Lord, and in the 
power of his might. That is the best way of all 
in which to be strong, boys. When the Philistines 
were hard pressed by the Israelites, they said one to 
another, ‘Be strong and quit yourselves like men . . . 
quit yourselves like men, and fight.’ And they fought 
so well that Israel was smitten before them, and the ark 
of God was taken. And so, boys, whenever, at home. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


143 


at school, or at plav, you feel tempted to do what is 
wrong, I ask you to remember tiiese words, ‘Quit 
yourselves like men, be strong, and fight.’ If you 
do, so sure as there is a God in heaven who loves 
you all, you will come off conquerors.” 

Mr. Silver’s words made a deep impression upon 
Bert. The great ambition of his boyish heart was 
to be esteeriied manly. Nor was he entirely free 
from the mistaken notions about manliness to which 
his teacher had referred. He had more than once 
been sneered at, by some of the boys at Mr. Gar- 
rison’s, for refusing to do what seemed to him wrong. 
They had called him “Softy,” and hinted at his being 
tied to his mother’s apron strings. Then, big, coarse 
Bob Brandon, always on the lookout to vent his spite, 
had nicknamed him “Sugarmouth” one day, because 
he had exclaimed to one of the boys who was pouring 
out oaths : 

“Oh, Tom! How can vou swear so? Don’t vou 
know how wicked it is to take God’s name in 
vain?” 

These and other incidents like them had troubled 
Bert a good deal. He dreaded being thought a 
“softy,” and had even at times felt a kind of envy 
of the boys whose consciences did not trouble them 
if they swore, or indulged in sly smokes, or defiled their 
mouths with filthy quids. Mr. Silver’s words now 
came in good time to give a changed current to these 
thoughts. They presented to his mind a very differ- 


144 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


ent idea of manliness from the confused conception 
which had been his hitherto. 

That’s a good motto for a fellow, Shortj,” said he, 
as the two friends walked home together from the 
school. Mother asked me the other day to take a 
text for a motto. I think I’ll take ^ Quit you like 
men, be strong.’ ” 

I think I will, too, Bert,” said Frank. “ It’s no 
harm if we have the same one, is it ? ” 

Why no, of course not,” answered Bert. We’ll 
both have the same, and then we’ll help one another 
all we can to do what it says.” 


CHAPTER XYI. 


THE FIRST DAYS AT DR. JOHNSTON’s. 

I T was a fine, bright September morning when Mr. 

Lloyd, with Bert on one side of him and Frank 
on the other — for Frank had come down, so that he 
might go with Bert — made his way to Dr. Johnston^s 
school. The school occupied a historic old building, 
whose weather-beaten front faced one of the principal 
streets of the city. This building had in times long 
past been the abode of the governor of the province, 
and sadly as it had degenerated in appearance, it still 
retained a certain dignity, and air of faded grandeur, 
that strongly suggested its having once been applied 
to a more exalted use than the liousing of a hundred 
boys for certain hours of the day. So spacious was 
it, that Dr. Johnston found ample room for his family 
in one half, while the other half was devoted to the pur- 
poses of the school. At the rear, a cluster of shabby 
outbuildings led to a long narrow yard where tufts 
of rank, coarse grass, and bunches of burdocks 
struggled hard to maintain their existence in spite of 
fearful odds. 

The boys’ hearts were throbbing violently as Mr. 
Lloyd rang the bell. The door was opened readily by 
a boy, who was glad of the excuse to leave his seat, 
K 145 


146 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


and be entered the schoolroom, followed by his 
charges. The room was long, narrow, and low- 
ceilinged, and was divided into two unequal portions 
by a great chimney, on either side of which a passage 
had been left. At the farther end, occupying tlie 
central space between two windows, was the doctor’s 
desk, or throne it might more properly be called ; for 
never did autocrat wield more unquestioned authority 
over his subjects than did Dr. Johnston over the 
liundred and odd scholars who composed his school. 
In front of him, running down the centre of the room, 
and on either hand, following the walls, were long 
lines of desks, at which sat boys of all sorts, and of 
all ages, from ten to eighteen. As Mr. Lloyd entered, 
those nearest the door looked up, and seeing the new 
comers, proceeded to stare at them with a frank curi- 
osity that made Bert feel as though he would like to 
hide in one of his father’s coat-tail pockets. 

They turned away pretty quickly, however, when 
Dr. Johnston, leaving his desk, came down to meet 
Mr. Lloyd, and as he passed betw’een the lines, every 
head was bent as busily over the book or slate before 
it, as though its attention had never been distracted. 

Considering that Dr. Johnston was reallv a small, 
slight man, it was surprising what an idea of stately 
dignity his appearance conveyed. He could hardly 
have impressed Bert with a deeper feeling of respect 
from the outset, if he had been seven feet high, in- 
stead of only a little more than five. He was a 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


147 


clergyman of the Episcopal church, and wore at all 
times a long black gown, reaching nearly to his 
ankles, wliich set off to the best advantage the spare, 
straight figure, and strong dark face. The habitual 
expression of that face when in respose was of 
thoughtful severity, and yet if one did but scan it 
closely enough, the stern mouth was seen to have a 
downward turn at its corners that hinted at a vein of 
humor lying hid somewhere. The hint was well- 
sustained, for underneath all his sternness and sever- 
ity the doctor concealed a playful humor, that at 
times came to the surface, and gratefully relieved his 
ordinary grimness. 

As he walked down from his desk to meet Mr. 
Lloyd, he looked very pleasant indeed; and Bert felt 
his nervousness a little calmed as, holding out his thin, 
white and yet muscular hand. Dr. Johnston said, 
cordially : 

^‘Good-morning, Mr. Lloyd. I presume these are 
the two boys you spoke to me about.” 

“They are. Dr. Johnston,” Mr. Lloyd replied. “I 
brought them in good time so that they might learn 
as much as possible about the ways of the school the 
first day.” 

“You did well, Mr. Lloyd. It is important to have 
a good beginning in everything that is worth doing,” 
said the doctor ; then, turning to Bert, he slipped his 
hand under his chin, and lifting his head so that he 
might look him full in the face, added, with a smile. 


148 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


I need hardly ask which of these boys is yours, for 
this one betrays his paternity in every feature.'' 

‘‘ You have hit the mark, doctor," said Mr. Lloyd, 
smiling in his turn. This is my son Cuthbert, at 
your service, and this is Frank Bowser, his insepar- 
able companion." 

Quite a case of Damon and Pythias, eh? "said 
the doctor, whose devotion to the classics was such 
that his one great regret was that he had not lived in 
the time of Horace. 

‘^Yes, something of the kind," rejoined Mr. Lloyd; 
and I would be very glad if you could manage to 
let them sit together so long as they behave them- 
selves." 

We'll see, we'll see," was the doctor's non-com- 
mittal response. 

•‘Very well, then, doctor," said Mr. Lloyd, turning 
to leave. I'll hand them over to you now. I am 
sure you will make the best of them, and that I am 
leaving them in very good hands. Good* bye, boys." 
And then, bending down, he whispered in Bert's ear, 
“ Remember — quit you like men — be strong," and then 
left them. 

As Mr. Lloyd disappeared through the door, the air 
of geniality the doctor had been wearing during the 
brief interview vanished from his countenance, and 
it relapsed into its wonted look of resigned severity. 

Lloyd and Bowser come with me to my desk," 
said he, turning his back upon them, and walking 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


149 


down the room. The boys followed very meekly, and 
on arriving at the desk the doctor entered their names 
in a huge book that lay open before him, using an old- 
fashioned quill pen that scratched so harshly as to send 
a shudder through Bert, who was very sensitive to 
such things. 

We will now see about seats for you both,^’ con- 
tinued the doctor. Then, raising his voice, he called 
out, Mr. Snelling, will you please come here,'' and 
from the far end of the room a respectful voice re- 
sponded Yes, sir." 

Looking in the direction whence the voice came, 
Bert saw an odd-looking man approaching, who, of 
course, was Mr. Snelling. He was of medium height, 
but quite as slight as tlie doctor himself. Many years 
at the schoolmaster’s desk had given a stoop to his 
shoulders and a pallor to his face, that were in marked 
contrast to his chief's erect figure and swarthy coun- 
tenance. But if his face was pale, his hair made a 
brave attempt to atone for this lack of color, for it was 
the richest, most uncompromising red ; and as though 
he delighted in its warm tints, Mr. Snelling allowed it 
to grow in uncropped abundance, and his favorite 
gesture w^as to thrust his fingers through its tangled 
mass. Beneath a white and narrow forehead were 
two small sharp eyes, that peered out keenly through 
a pair of gold-bowed spectacles, and were ever on the 
watch to detect the slightest misbehavior among the 
urchins gathered around him. 


150 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Bert’s first impression of Mr. Snelliiig was not a 
favorable one, and as he stood by and heard Dr. 
Johnston say: Mr. Snelling, here are two more 
pupils. This is Lloyd, and this is Bowser. They 
will go into your room for the present. Will you’ 
please see that desks are assigned thern?” — he thought 
to himself that in spite of the doctor’s grim appear- 
ance he would rather stay in his room than be handed 
over to Mr. Snelling. 

However, he was not to be consulted in the matter, 
so he followed in the wake of Mr. Snelling, who, by 
the way, it should be explained, was the assistant mas- 
ter, having special charge of all the younger scholars, 
and the drilling of them in the English branches of 
learning. The classics and mathematics the doctor 
reserved for himself, and abetter teacher of the former 
particularly there was not in all Halifax. 

Mr. Snelling’s portion of the room differed from 
the doctor’s only in that it was not so well-lighted 
and the seats were not quite so comfortable. The 
school being pretty full at the lime, the securing of 
seats for the two new comers required some rearrang- 
ing, in the course of which changes had to be made 
that evidently did not by any means meet with the 
approbation of those who were immediately concerned; 
and Bert’s spirits, already at a low ebb, were not much 
elevated by sundry scowling looks directed at him, 
and by one red-faced, irritable-looking chap seizing the 
opportunity when Mr. Snelling’s back was turned, to 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


151 


shake his fist at Bert and Frank, and mutter loudly 
enough for them to hear : 

punch the heads of you both at recess, see if 
I don’t.” 

At length, with some little difficulty, Mr. Snelling 
got matters arranged, and the two boys were placed 
in the farthest corner of the room, and, to their pro- 
found delight, side by side. Their accommodations 
were the reverse of luxurious. A wooden bench, 
destitute of back, and shiny from the friction of dear 
knows how many restless sitters ; a sloping desk, cut 
and carved by careless knives, and having underneath 
an open shelf upon which the books, slate, cap, and 
lunch might be put — that was the sum total. Yet, 
after all, wdiat more do schoolboys really need, or 
can be safely entrusted with? 

Feeling very strange and nervous, Bert and Frank 
took their seats, and, slipping their caps under the 
desk, — they were both wearing that serviceable form 
of head gear known as the Glengarry, — they did their 
best to seem composed, and to take in their surround- 
ings. The gaunt, unlovely room was soon inspected, 
and from it tliey turned their attention to its occupants. 
Mr. Snelling has already been described. To the left 
of his desk, and extending row upon row, one behind 
the other, were desks filled with boys of different 
ages and sizes. In front of him was an open space, 
in which the classes stood when reciting lessons to 
him, and across this space was another line of desks 


152 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


placed close to the wall, which were assigned to the 
oldest boys in the room. 

Not a familiar or friendly face could the new 
comers find, but instead, they saw many that seemed 
to take pleasure in making them feel, if possible, still 
more ill at ease, by fixing upon them a cold, indiffer- 
ent stare, or even an ugly grimace. The only ray of 
light was that which came from tlie sweet countenance 
of a blue-eyed, fair-haired boy, who, catching Bert’s 
eye, nodded pleasantly at him, as though to say, ^^Fm 
glad you’ve come; make yourself at home.” And 
Bert resolved that he would make his acquaintance at 
the very first opportunity. 

Having nothing to do but watch the other bovs as 
they studied and recited, the morning dragged along 
very slowly for Bert and Frank, and they were im- 
mensely relieved when the noon recess was announced, 
and the whole school poured tumultuously out into 
either the yard or the street, according to their prefer- 
ence. The majority of the boys went into the street, 
and the two friends followed them, feeling not a little 
anxious as to what sort of treatment they might ex- 
pect at the hands of their new companions. As it 
proved, however, they had nothing to fear, for it was 
an unwritten law of the Johnston school, that new 
boys should be left in peace for the first day ; and 
accordingly Frank and Bert were permitted to stand 
about and watch the others enjoying themselves with- 
out interruption. No one asked them to join in the 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


153 


games, although, no doubt, had they done so of their 
owii accord, no one would have objected. After they 
had been there a few minutes, Bert heard a soft voice 
behind him saying: 

^‘It’s horrid to be a new boy, isn’t it? When I 
was a new boy I felt so frightened. Do you feel 
frightened ? ” And turning round he saw beside him 
the blue-eyed, fair-haired boy whose pleasant face had 
attracted his attention in the school. 

I don’t think I feel just frightened,” he answered, 
with a smile. But I can’t say I feel very much at 
home yet.” 

^^Oh, my! But it will be very much worse to- 
morrow,” said the new acquaintance. 

^^And why will it be worse?” inquired Bert, 
eagerly. 

Because they’ll hoist you,” said the other, with a 
nervous glance around, as though he feared being 
overheard. 

^^Does it hurt dreadfully to be hoisted?” asked 
Bert, while Frank drew near, awaiting the reply with 
intense interest. 

Oh, yes ; it does hurt dreadfully ! But ” — with a 
more cheerful air — ^^you get over it after a little while, 
you know.” 

“ Well, then, I guess I can stand it. If you got 
over it all right, so can I,” spoke up Bert, manfully ; 
then, turning to Frank : ^And you can, too, can’t you. 
Shorty?” 


154 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Frank shook his head doubtfully. I can all right 
enough, but I don’t know that I will. I’ve a mind 
to give them a fight for it, anyhow.” 

Not a bit of use,” said the blue-eyed boy, whose 
name, by the way, as he presently told the others, was 
Ernest Linton. ^^Not a bit of use. They’ll only 
beat you the harder if you fight.” 

We’ll see,” said Frank, with a determined air. 

We’ll see when the time comes.” 

Bert and Frank found Ernest a very bright and 
useful friend, and they had so many questions to ask 
him that they were very sorry when the ringing of a 
bell summoned them back to their seats, where they 
were kept until three o’clock in the afternoon, when 
school was over for the day. 

At home that evening Bert recounted his experiences 
to three very attentive listeners, and his face grew very 
grave when he came to tell what Ernest had said 
about the ^‘hoisting.” Having never witnessed a 
performance of this peculiar rite by which for many 
years it had been the custom of the school to initiate 
new members, Bert had no very clear ideas about it, 
and, of course, thought it all the more dreadful on 
that account. But his father cheered him a great deal 
by the view he took of it. 

^^See, now, Bert,” said he. ‘^It’s just this way. 
Every boy in Dr. Johnston’s school has been hoisted, 
and none of them, I suppose, are any the worse for it. 
Neither will you be. Take my advice and don’t 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 155 

resist. Let the boys have it all their own way, and 
they’ll like you all the better, and let you off all the 
easier.” 

“Very well, father. I’ll do just as you say,” re- 
sponded Bert. ^^And when I come home to-morrow 
afternoon I’ll tell you all about it.” And feeling in 
much better spirits than he had been in all day, Bert 
Avent off to bed, and to sleep, as only a tired school- 
boy in sturdy health can sleep. 


CHAPTER Xyil. 


THE HOISTING. 

M rs. LLOYD gave Bert a rnore than usually 
affectionate kiss as he started off for school 
next morning, and his father called after him : 
Remember, Bert, quit you like a man.” 

Yet who could blame the little fellow if his heart 
throbbed with unwonted vigor all that morning, and 
that he watched the clock’s hands anxiously as they 
crept slowly, but steadily, round the dial, yellow with 
age and service. 

Frank had adopted an unconcerned, if not defiant, 
air, which told plainly enough that he had no idea of 
submitting quietly to the inevitable ordeal. He was 
a born fighter. Strength, endurance, courage were 
expressed in every line of his body. Indeed, as was 
seen in the matter of the rows between the Garrison 
and the National boys, he thought a good lively tussle 
to be fine fun, and never missed a chance of having 
one. 

The two boys were carefully examined by both Dr. 
Johnston and Mr. Snelling as to the extent of their 
learning in the course of the morning, and assigned to 
classes accordingly. They were given the same work : 
English grammar and history, arithmetic, geography, 
156 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


157 


Latin grammar, etc., and a list given them of the 
books they would need to procure. They were glad 
to find themselves in the same classes with Ernest 
Linton, who had been only half a year at the school 
before them, for he seemed such a kind, willing, 
obliging little chap that they both became fond of 
him at once. 

When recess came he slipped up to Bert and 
whispered in his ear: 

^^8tay in school, and then they can’t get at you. 
Mr. Snelling always stays, and they daren’t come in 
for you.” 

^‘Not a bit of it,” said Bert, emphatically. ^^The 
sooner it’s over the better. Come along, Shorty.” 
And they marched bravely out, with Ernest following 
closely behind. 

As they stepped into the street, they found fifty or 
more of the boys gathered about the door, evidently 
awaiting them. Instantly the cry was raised, ^^The 
new boys — hoist them! hoist them!” And half a 
dozen hands were laid upon Bert, who led the van, 
while others seized Frank to prevent his running 
away. Bert made no resistance. Neither did Frank, 
when he saw that his time had not yet come, as they 
were going to hoist Bert first. Clinching his fists, 
and hunching his shoulders in readiness for a struggle, 
he stood in silence watching Bert’s fate. 

What that would be was not long a matter of un- 
certainty. In the midst of a noisy rabble of boys. 


158 


BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 


many of whom were larger, and all older than him- 
self, he was borne along to the foot of the high fence 
that shut in the yard which, as already described, was 
at the back of the school building. Perched on top 
of this fence, and leaning down with outstretched 
arms, were four of the largest lads, shouting at the 
top of their voices, “Bring him along; hoist him up, 
hoist him!” The unresisting Bert was brought un- 
derneath this quartette, and then his hands were lifted 
up until they could grasp them in their own. So soon 
as this was done, a pull all together on their part 
hoisted him up from the ground, three feet at least, 
and then his legs were seized, lest he should be tempted 
to kick. The next moment, as perfectly helpless, and 
looking not unlike a hawk nailed to a barn door by 
way of warning to kindred robbers, Bert hung there, 
doing his best to keep a smile on his face, but in 
reality, half frightened to death. The whole crowd then 
precipitated themselves upon him, and with tight-shut 
fists, proceeded to pummel any part of his body they 
could reach. Their blows were dealt in good earnest, 
and not merely for fun, and they hurt just as much as 
one might expect. Poor Bert winced, and quivered, 
and squirmed, but not a cry escaped from his close- 
set lips. The one thought in his mind w^as, “ Quit 
you like men,” and so buoyed up by it was he, that 
had the blows been as hard again as they were, it is 
doubtful if his resolution to bear them in silence 
would have faltered. 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


159 


He did not know how long he hung there- It 
seemed to him like hours. It probably was not 
longer than a minute. But, oh ! the glad relief with 
which he heard one of the leaders call out : 

That’s enough, fellows ; let him down. He stood 
it like a brick.” 

The blows ceased at once; those holding his hands 
swung him a couple of times along the fence after the 
manner of a pendulum, and then dropped him to the 
ground, where he was surrounded by his late perse- 
cutors, who now, looking pleasant enough, proceeded 
to clap him on the back, and tell him very emphatic- 
ally that he was ^^a plucky little chap”; ^^one of the 
right sort”; ^Hrue grit,” and so forth. 

Feeling sore and strained from his neck to his heels, 
Bert would have been glad to slip away into some 
corner and have a good cry, just to relieve his sup- 
pressed emotions; but as he tried to separate himself 
from the throng about him, he heard the shout of 
Hoist him ! Hoist him ! ” again raised, and saw the 
leaders in this strange sport bear down upon Frank 
Bowser, who, still in the hands of his first captors had 
looked on at Bert’s ordeal with rapidly rising anger. 

The instant Frank heard the shout, he broke loose 
from those who held him, and springing up a flight 
of steps near by, stood facing his pursuers with an 
expression upon his countenance that looked ill for 
the first that should attempt to touch him. A little 
daunted by his unexpected action, the boys paused for 


160 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


a moment, and then swarmed about the steps. One 
of the largest rushed forward to seize Frank, but with 
a quick movement the latter dodged him, and then by 
a sudden charge sent him tumbling down the steps 
into the arras of the others. But the advantage was 
only momentary. In another minute he was sur- 
rounded, and borne down the steps despite his resist- 
ance. 

The struggle that ensued was really heroic — on 
Frank’s part, at all events. Although so absurdly 
outnumbered, he fought desperately, not with blows, 
but with sheer strength of arm and leg, straining to 
the utmost every muscle in his sturdy frame. Indeed, 
so tremendous were his efforts, that for a time it seemed 
as if they would succeed in freeing him. But the 
might of numbers prevailed at length, and after some 
minutes further struggling, he was hoisted in due form, 
and pounded until the boys were fairly weary. 

When they let him go, Frank adjusted his clothes 
which had been much disordered in the conflict, took 
his cap from the hands of a little chap, by whom it 
had thoughtfully been picked up for him, and with 
furious flaming face went over to Bert, who had been 
a spectator of his friend’s gallant struggle with min- 
gled feelings of admiration for his courage and regret 
at his obstinacy. 

They beat me, but I made them sweat for it,” said 
he. I wasn’t going to let them have their own way 
with me, even if you did.” 


BERT Lloyd’s BOi^nooD. 


161 


^^You might just as well have given in first as 
last,” replied Bert. 

But I didn’t give in,” asserted Frank. That’s 
just the point. They were too many for me, of course, 
and I couldn’t help myself at last, but I held out as 
long as I could.” 

‘•Anyway, it’s over now,” said Bert, “ and it won’t 
bother us anv more. But there’s one thins^ I’ve made 
up my mind to: I’m not going to have anything to do 
with hoisting other new boys. I don’t like it, and I 
won’t do it.” 

“No more will I, Bert,” said Frank. “It’s a mean 
business ^ a whole crowd of fellows turning on one 
and beating him like that.” 

Just then the bell rang, and all the boys poured 
back into the schoolroom for the afternoon session. 

Each in his own way, Bert and Frank had made a 
decidedly favorable impression upon their schoolmates. 
No one mistook Bert’s passive endurance for cowardice. 
His bearing had been too brave and bright for that. 
Neither did Frank’s vigorous resistance arouse any ill 
feeling against him. Boys are odd creatures. They 
heartily admire and applaud the fiery, reckless fellow, 
who takes no thought for the consequences, and yet 
they thoroughly appreciate the quiet, cool self-com- 
mand of the one who does not move until he knows 
just what he is going to do. And so they were well 
pleased with both the friends, and quite ready to admit 
them into the full fellowship of the school. 

I. 


162 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


The Lloyds were greatly interested by Berths ac- 
count of the hoisting. They praised him. for his self- 
control, and Frank for his plucky fight against such 
odds, and they fully agreed with Bert that hoisting 
was a poor business at best, and that he would be 
doing right to have nothing to do with it. 

Perhaps some day or other you’ll be able to have 
it put a stop to, Bert,” said his mother, patting his 
head fondly. It would make me very proud, if 
my boy were to become a reformer before he leaves 
school.” 

‘^Pm afraid there’s not much chance of that, 
mother,” answered Bert. “The boys have been hoist- 
ing the new chaps for ever so many years, and Dr. 
Johnston has never stopped them.” 

That was true. Although he feigned to know noth- 
ing about it, the doctor was well aware of the existence 
of this practice peculiar to his school, but he never 
thought of interfering with the boys. It was a cardinal 
principle with him that the boys should be left pretty 
much to themselves at recess. So long as they did 
their duty during the school hours, they could do as 
they pleased during the play hour. Moreover, he 
was a great admirer of manliness in his boys. He 
would have been glad to find in every one of them 
the stoical indifference to pain of the traditional In- 
dian. Consequently, fair stand-up fights were winked 
at, and anything like tattling or tale bearing sternly 
discouraged. He had an original method of express- 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


1G3 


ing his disapprobation of the latter, which will be 
illustrated farther on. Holding those views, therefore, 
he was not likely to put his veto upon ‘Mioisting.” 

As the days went by, Bert rapidly mastered the 
ways of the school, and made many friends among 
his schoolmates. He found the lessons a good deal 
harder than they had been at Mr. Garrison’s. And 
not only so, but the method of hearing them was so 
thorough that it was next to impossible for a boy who 
had come ill-prepared to escaped detection. Dr. John- 
ston did not simply hear the lesson ; he examined his 
scholars upon it, and nothing short of full acquaint- 
ance with it would content him. He had an original 
system of keeping the school record, which puzzled 
Bert very much, and took him a good while to under- 
stand. 

On the doctor’s desk lay a large book, something 
like a business ledger. One page was devoted to each 
day. At the left side of the page was the column 
containing the boys’ names arranged in order of 
seniority, the boy who had been longest in the school 
being at the head, and the last new boy at the foot. 
Each boy had a line to himself, running out to the 
end of the page, and these parallel lines were crossed 
bv vertical ones, ruled from the top to the bottom of 
the page, and having at the top the names of all the 
different classes ; so that the page when ready for its 
entries resembled very much a checker board, only 
that the squares were very small, and exceedingly 


164 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

numerous. Just how these squares, thus standing 
opposite each name, should be filled, depended upon 
the behavior of the owner of that name, and his 
knowledge of his lessons. 

If Bert, for instance, recited his grammar lesson 
without a slip, the letter B — standing for bene, well — 
was put in the grammar column. If he made one 
mistake, the entry was V B, vix bene — scarcely well ; 
if two mistakes, Med, mediocriter — middling ; and if 
three, M, male — badly, equivalent to not knowing it 
at all. The same system prevailed for all the lessons, 
and in a modified form for the behavior or deport- 
ment also. As regards behavior, the arrangement 
was one bad mark for each offense, the first constitut- 
ing a V B, the second a Med, the third an M, and the 
fourth a P, the most ominous letter of all, standing, 
as it did, for pessime — as bad as possible — and one 
might also say for punishment also ; as whoever got 
a P thereby earned a whipping with that long strap, 
concernino: which Bert had heard such alarmiuo: 
stories. 

It will be seen that by following out the line upon 
which each boy’s name stood, his complete record as a 
scholar could be seen, and upon this record the doctor 
based the award of prizes at the close of the term. 
For he was a firm believer in the benefits of prize- 
giving, and every half year, on the day before the 
holidays, a bookcase full of fine books, each duly 
inscribed, was distributed among those who had come 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


165 


out at the head in the different classes, or distinguished 
themselves by constant good behavior. 

Once that Bert fully understood the purpose of this 
daily record, and the principle upon which the prize 
giving was based, he determined to be among the 
prize winners at the end of the term. His ambition 
was fired by what the older boys told him of the 
beautiful books awarded, and the honor it was to get 
one of them. He knew that he could not please his 
father or mother better than by being on the prize 
list, and so he applied himself to his lessons with a 
vigor and fidelity that soon brought him to the notice 
of the observant doctor. 

I am glad to see you taking so much interest in 
your work,” said he one morning, pausing, in his 
round of inspection, to lay his hand kindly upon 
Bert’s shoulder as the latter bent over his slate, work- 
ing out a problem in proportion. good beginning 
is a very important thing.” 

Bert blushed to the roots of his hair at this unex- 
pected and, indeed, unusual compliment from the 
grim master, who, before the boy could frame any 
reply, passed out of hearing. 

^AVe’ll do our best, won’t we, Shorty?” said Bert, 
turning to his friend beside him. 

I suppose so,” answered Frank, in rather a doubt- 
ful tone. But your best wull be a good deal better 
than mine. The lessons are just awful hard ; it’s no 
use talking.” 


166 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


^^They are hard, Shorty, aad no mistake. But 
you’ll get used to them all right,” rejoined Bert, 
cheerfully. 

I guess I’ll get used to being kept in and getting 
whipped, first,” grumbled Frank. 

“Not a bit of it,” Bert insisted. “You just stick 
at them and you’ll come out all right.” 

The fact of the matter was, that poor Frank did 
find the lessons a little more than he could manage, 
and there were a good many more “ V B’s ” and 
“ Med’s ” opposite his name than “ B’s.” He was a 
restless sort of a chap, moreover, and noisy in his 
movements, thus often causing Mr. Snelling to look 
at him, and call out sharply : 

“ Bowser, what are you doing there ? ” And Frank 
would instantly reply, in a tone of indignant innocence : 

“ Nothing, sir.” 

Whereupon Mr. Snelling would turn to Dr. John- 
ston, with the request : 

“ Will you please put a mark to Bowser for doing 
nothing, sir ? ” And down would go the black mark 
against poor Bowser, who, often as this happened, 
seemed unable ever to learn to avoid that fatal reply : 
“ Nothing, sir.” 


CHAPTER XyilL 


SCHOOL EXPERIENCES. 

B y the time autumn had made way for winter, 
Bert felt thoroughly at home at Dr. Johnston’s, 
and was just about as happy a boy as attended this 
renowned institution. In spite of the profound awe 
the doctor inspired, he ventured to cherish toward him 
a feeling of love as well as of respect ; and although 
Mr. Snelling did not exactly inspire awe, nor even 
much respect, he managed to like him not a little 
also. As for the boys — well, there were all sorts and 
conditions of them ; good, bad, and indifferent ; boys 
who thought it very fine and manly to smoke, and 
swear, and swap improper stories, and boys who 
seemed as if they had been more appropriately dressed 
in girls’ clothes, so lacking were they in true manly 
qualities; while between these two extremes came in 
the great majority, among whom Bert easily found 
plenty of bright, wholesome companions. 

There were some odd chaps at the school, with whose 
peculiarities Bert would amuse the home circle very 
much, as he described them in his own graphic way. 
There was Bob Mackasey, called by his companions, 
Taffy the Welshman,” because he applied the money 
given him by his mother every morning to get some 

167 


168 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


lunch witli to the purchase of taffy ; which toothsome 
product he easily bartered off for more sandwiches 
and cakes than could have been bought for ten cents, 
thus filling his own stomach at a very slight cost to his 
far-seeing mother. 

A big fat fellow in knickerbockers, by name Harry 
Rawdon, the son of an officer in the English army, 
had attained a peculiar kind of notoriety in the school, 
by catching flies and bottling them. 

Then there was Larry Saunders, the dandy of the 
school, although undoubtedly one of the very plainest 
boys in it, who kept a tiny square of looking glass in 
his desk, and would carefully arrange his toilet before 
leaving the school in the afternoon, to saunter up and 
down the principal street of the city, doing his best 
to be captivating. 

Two hot-tempered, pugnacious chaps, by name Bob 
Morley and Fred Short, afforded great amusement by 
the ease with which they could be set at punching one 
another. It was only necessary for some one to take 
Bob Morely aside and whisper meaningly that Fred 
Short had been calling him names behind his back, or 
something of that sort equally aggravating, to put him in 
fighting humor. Forthwith, he would challenge Mas- 
ter Fred in the orthodox way — that is, he would take 
up a chip, spit on it, and toss it over his shoulder. 
Without a moment'^ hesitation, Fred would accept 
the challenge, and then the two would be at it, ham- 
mer and tongs, fighting vigorously until they were 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


169 


separated by the originators of the mischief, when they 
thought they had had enough of it. They were very 
evenly matched, and as a matter of fact did not do 
one another much harm; but the joke of the thiug 
was that they never seemed to suspect how they were 
being made tools of by the other boys, who always 
enjoyed these duels immensely. 

Another character, and a very lovable one this 
time, was a nephew of the doctor's. Will Johnston by 
name, but universally called ^^Teter," an odd nick- 
name, the reason of which he did not seem to under- 
stand himself. This Teter was one of those good- 
natured, obliging, reckless, happy-go-lucky individuals 
who never fail to win the love of boys. His gen- 
erosity was equaled only by his improvidence, and 
both were surpassed by his good luck. 

Bert conceived a great admiration for Teter John- 
ston. His undaunted courage, as exhibited in snow- 
ball fights, when, with only a handful of followers 
he would charge upon the rest of the school, and 
generally put them to flight ; his reckless enterprise 
and amazing luck at marbles and other games; his 
constant championing of the small boys when tor- 
mented by the larger ones, more than one bully having 
had a tremendous thrashing at his hands; — these 
w^ere very shining qualities in Bert's eyes, and they 
fascinated him so, that if ‘^fagging" had been per- 
mitted at Dr. Johnston's, Bert would have deemed it 
not a hardship, but an honor, to have been Teter's ^Tag.'’ 


170 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


In strong contrast to his admiration for Teter John- 
ston was his antipathy to Rod Graham. Rod was 
both a sneak and a bully. It was in his character as 
a sneak that he showed himself to Bert first, making 
profuse demonstrations of good-will, and doing his best 
to ingratiate himself with him, because from his well- 
to-do appearance he judged that he would be a good 
subject from whom to beg lunch, or borrow marbles, 
and so on. But Bert instinctively disliked Rod, and 
avoided him to the best of his ability. Then Rod 
revealed the other side of his nature. From a sneak 
he turned into a bully, and lost no opportunity of 
teasing and tormenting Bert, who, being much smaller 
than he, felt compelled to submit, although there were 
times when he was driven almost to desperation. It 
was not so much by open violence as by underhanded 
trickery that Rod vented his spite, and this made it 
all the harder for Bert, who, although he was never 
in any doubt as to the identity of the person that stole 
his lunch, poured ink over his copy book, scratched 
his slate with a bit of jagged glass, tore the tails off 
his glengarry, and filled the pockets of his overcoat 
with snow, still saw no way of putting a stop to this 
tormenting other than by thrashing Rod, and this 
he did not feel equal to doing. Upon this .last point, 
however, he changed his mind subsequently, thanks to 
the influence of his friend Teter Johnson, and the 
result was altogether satisfactory as will be shown in 
due time. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 171 

Bert’s feelings toward Dr. Johnston himself were, 
as has been already stated, of a mixed nature. At 
first, he was simply afraid of him, but little by little 
a gentler feeling crept into his heart. Yet there was 
no doubt the doctor was far more likely to inspire fear 
than love. He wielded his authority with an impar- 
tial, unsparing hand. No allowance was ever made 
for hesitancy or nervousness on the part of the scholar 
when reciting his lesson, nor for ebullitions of boyish 
spirits when sitting at the desk. Everything must 
be done correctly, and in order,” was the motto of his 
rule. The whippings he administered were about as 
impressive a mode of school punishment as could be 
desired. The unhappy boy who had behaved so ill, 
or missed so many lessons as to deserve one, heard the 
awful words Stand upon the floor for punishment,” 
uttered in the doctor’s sternest tones. Trembling in 
every limb, and feeling cold shivers running up and 
down his back, while his face flushed fiery red, or 
paled to ashy white by turns, the culprit would re- 
luctantly leave his seat, and take his stand in the cen- 
tral aisle, with the eyes of the whole school upon him 
variously expressing pity, compassion, or perhaps un- 
sympathetic ridicule. 

After he had stood there some time, for be it known 
this exposure was an essential part of the punishment, 
he would see the doctor slowly rise from his seat, draw 
forth from its hiding place the long black strap that 
had for so many years been his sceptre, and then 


172 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


come down toward him with slow, stately steps. Stop- 
ping just in front of him, the order would be issued : 
‘‘Hold out your hand.^^ Quivering with apprehen- 
sion, the boy would extend his baud but half way, 
keeping his elbow fast at his side. But the doctor 
would not be thus partially obeyed. “ Hold out your 
hand, sir ! he would thunder, and out would go the 
arm to its fullest length, and with a sharp swish 
through the air, down would come the strap, covering 
the hand from the wrist to finger tip, and sending a 
thrill of agony through every nerve in the body. 
Ten, twenty, thirty, or in extreme cases, even forty 
such stripes would be administered, some boys taking 
them as fast as the doctor could strike, so that the 
torture might soon be over, and others pausing be- 
tween each blow, to rub their stinging palms together, 
and bedew them with their tears. 

It was a terrible ordeal, no doubt, and one that 
would hardly be approved of to-day, the publicity 
uniting with the severity to make it a cruel strain 
upon a boy's nervous system. In all the years that 
Bert spent at Dr. J ohnston’s school he was called upon 
to endure it only once, but that once sufficed. The 
way it came about was this : 

Bert one morning happened to be in a more than 
usually frolicsome mood, and was making pellets 
out of the soft part of the rolls he had brought for 
lunch, and throwing them about. In trying to hit a 
boy who sat between him and Mr. Snelliug’s desk. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


J73 

he somehow or other miscalculated his aim, and to his 
horror, the sticky pellet flew straight at the bald spot 
on top of Mr. Suelliug’s head, as the latter beut his 
shortsighted eyes over a book before him, hittiug it 
squarely in the centre, and staying tliere in token of 
its success. 

With angry face, Mr. Snelling sprang to his feet, 
and brushing the unlucky pellet from his shiny pate, 
called out so fiercely as to attract the doctor’s attention : 

“ Who threw that at me? ” 

The few boys who were in the secret looked very 
hard at their books, while those who were not glanced 
up in surprise, aud tried to discover the cause of Mr. 
Snelliug’s excitement. 

Who threw that at me?” demanded Mr. Snell- 
ing again. 

Bert, who had at first been so appalled by what he 
had done that his tongue refused to act, was about to 
call out It was I, sir,” when Bod Graham was 
seen to hold up his hand, and on Mr.- Snelling turn- 
ing inquiringly toward him. Bod, in a low, sneaking 
voice, said : 

It was Lloyd, sir ; I saw him do it.” 

Mr. Snelling immediately called out, Lloyd, come 
to my desk ; aud Bert, feeling hot and cold by turns, 
went up to the desk, and stood before it the picture 
of penitence. 

“ Did you throw that pellet ? ” asked Mr. Snelling, 
in indignant tones. 


174 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


“Yes, sir; but I didn’t mean to hit you, sir,” 
answered Bert, meekly. 

“ I know nothing about that,” answered Mr. Snell- 
ing, too much excited to listen to any defense. “ Fol- 
low me to Dr. Johnston.” 

Hastening into the presence of the stern headmaster, 
Mr. Sneliing stated what had happened, and pointed 
to the trembling Bert as the culprit. 

“ How do you know he is the offender, Mr. Sneli- 
ing?” inquired the doctor, gravely. 

“ Graham said he saw him do it, sir, and Lloyd 
confesses it himself,” replied Mr. Sneliing. 

“ Oh ! indeed — that is sufficient. Leave Lloyd 
with me.” And thus dismissed, Mr. Sneliing returned 
to his desk. 

“Lloyd, I am sorry about this. You must stand 
upon the floor for punishment,” said the doctor, turn- 
ing to Bert ; and Bert, chilled to the heart, took his 
place upon the spot where he had so often pitied other 
boys for being. 

Presently, drawing out his strap, the doctor came 
toward him : 

“ Hold out your hand, sir. 

Bert promptly extended his right hand to the full. 
Swish ! and down came the cruel strap upon it, in- 
flicting a burning smart, as though it were a red-hot 
irou^ and sending a thrill of agony through every 
nerve. Swish ! And the left hand was set on 
fire. Swish ! Swish ! right and left ; right and 


BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 


175 


left, until twenty stripes had been administered ; and 
then, turning on his heel, the doctor walked solemnly 
back to his desk. 

During all this torture not a sound had escaped 
Bert. He felt that the doctor could not do other- 
wise than punish him, and he determined to bear 
the punishment bravely ; so closing his lips tightly, 
and summoning all his resolution, he held out one 
hand after the other, taking the blows as fast as the 
doctor could give them. But when the ordeal was 
over he hurried to his seat, and burying his head in 
his burning hands, burst into a passion of tears — for 
he could control himself no longer. 

A few minutes later his attention was aroused by 
hearing the doctor call out, in a loud, stern voice : 

Graham, come forward.” 

Graham got out of his seat, and in a half-fright- 
ened way, slunk up to the doctor’s desk. 

I understand, Graham,” said the doctor, with his 
grimmest expression, that you volunteered to tell 
Mr. Snelling who it was that threw that pellet. You 
know, or ought to know, the rule of this school as to 
informers. You will receive the same punishment 
that I have just given Lloyd. Stand upon the floor.” 

Completely taken aback at this unexpected turn in 
affairs, Rod Graham mechanically took up his posi- 
tion, looking the very picture of abject misery. The 
doctor kept him there for full half an hour, and then 
administered twenty stripes, with an unction that 


176 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


showed, clearly enough, his profound contempt for 
that most contemptible of beings, an informer. 

Now, Bert was not an angel, but simply a boy — a 
very good boy, in many respects, no doubt, but a boy, 
notwithstanding. It would, therefore, be doing him 
an injustice to deny that he took a certain delight in 
seeing his tormentor receive so sound a whipping, and 
that it brought, at least, a temporary balm to his own 
wounded feelings. But the wound was altogether too 
deep to be cured by this, or by Frank Bowser’s heart- 
felt sympathy, or even by the praise of his school- 
mates, many of whom came up to him at recess and 
told him he was a brick,” a daisy,” and so forth, 
because he had taken a whipping without crying. 

All this could not hide from him what he felt to be 
the disgrace of the thing. So ashamed was he of 
himself that he could hardly find courage to tell them 
about it at home ; and although, easily appreciating the 
whole situation, Mr. Lloyd had only words of cheer 
for him, and none of condemnation, Bert still took it 
so much to heart that the following Sunday he pleaded 
hard to be allowed to remain away from the Sunday- 
school, as he did not want to face Mr. Silver and his 
classmates so soon. But his father wisely would not 
suffer this, and so, much against his will, he went to 
school, as usual, where, however, he felt very ill at 
ease until the session was over, when he had a long 
talk with Mr. Silver and told him the whole story. 

This relieved his mind very much. He felt as if 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


177 


he were square with the world again, and he went 
back to Dr. Johnston’s far lighter in heart on Monday 
morning than he had left it on Friday afternoon. He 
had learned a lesson, too, that needed no re-teaching 
throughout the remainder of his school days. That 
was the first and last time Bert Lloyd stood upon the 
floor for punishment. 


M 


CHAPTER XIX. 


VICTORY AND DEFEAT. 


S may be easily imagined, Dr. Johnston^s severe 



punishment of Rod Graham for having taken 
upon himself the part of an informer did not tend to 
make that young gentleman any more pleasant in his 
bearing toward Bert. By some process of reasoning, 
intelligible only to himself, he held Bert accountable 
for the whipping he had received, and lost no oppor- 
tunity of wreaking his vengeance upon him. Every 
now and then during that winter Bert had bitter 
proof of his enemy’s unrelenting hate. It seemed as 
though there were no limit to Rod’s ingenuity in 
devising ways of annoying him, and many a hot tear 
did he succeed in wringing from him. 

As spring drew near, this persecution grew more 
and more intolerable, and, without Bert himself being 
fully conscious of it, a crisis was inevitable. This 
crisis came sooner, perhaps, than either Bert or Rod 
anticipated. One bright spring morning, as Bert, 
with satchel strapped upon his back, approached the 
school, feeling in high spirits, and looking the very 
picture of a sturdy schoolboy. Rod, who had been in 
hiding behind a porch, sprang out upon him suddenly, 
snatched the cap off his head, and, with a shout of. 


178 


BERT LLOYB^S BOYHOOD. 


179 


Fetch it, doggy; go, fetch it,’’ flung it into the 
middle of the street, that was now little better than a 
river of mud. 

This proved to be the last straw upon the back of 
Bert’s endurance, and it broke it. With a quickness 
that gave his tormentor no chance to dodge or defend 
himself, he doubled up his fist, shut his eyes tight, 
and, rushing at him, struck out with all his might. 
The blow could hardly have been more etfective if 
Bert had been an expert in boxing, for his fist landed 
full on Bod’s left eye, sending him staggering back- 
ward several paces, with his hands clapped over 
the injured optic. But he soon recovered himself, 
and, with clenched fists, was rushing upon Bert, to 
pummel him fiercely, when Teter Johnston, who had 
just come up, sprang in between, and, catching Rod’s 
uplifted arm, cried out, sternly : 

^^Stop, now! none of that! Tliis must be a fair 
fight, and you sha’n’t begin until Lloyd is ready.” 

Tlien turning to Bert, while Bod, who had too 
much respect' for Teter’s prowess not to obey him, 
gave way with a malignant scowl, Teter said, encour- 
aorino-lv : 

^^You must fight him, Bert. It’s the only way 
to settle him. You’ll thrash him all right enough. 
I’ll see you through.” 

Bert had a good many doubts about his thrashing 
^Hiim all right enough,” but he was still too angry to 
think calmly, and, moreover, he was not a little 


180 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


elated at the surprisiog success of his first blow, which, 
although struck at a venture, had gone so straight to' 
the mark, and so he nodded his head in assent. 

^^Veiy well, then, it’s a fight,” said Teter to Rod. 
“In the yard at the noon recess. You bring your 
second, Graham ; I’ll look after Bert myself.” 

The words were hardly uttered when the bell rung, 
and the boys had all to hurry to their places in the 
schoolroom. 

That morning was one of the most miserable poor 
Bert had ever spent. He was a prey to the most 
diverse feelings, and it was with the utmost difficulty 
that he could bring his mind to bear sufficiently upon 
his lessons to ke^p his place in the classes. In the 
first place, he really dreaded the fight with Rod Gra- 
ham. Graham was older, taller, and much more 
experienced in such affairs, and Bert could see no 
reason why he should hope for a victory over him. 
It was all well enough for dear old Frank to say 
from time to time, as he noticed Bert’s depression : 

“Keep up your spunk, Bert; you’ll thrash him 
sure. And if you don’t, I will, as sure as I’m alive.” 

But that did not make the matter any clearer, for 
Bert would rather not get a thrashing at Rod’s hands, 
even though Rod should get one at Frank’s hands 
shortly after. 

Then, again, he did not feel at all certain that his 
father and mother would approve of his having a 
fight with one of his schoolmates. They disliked 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


181 


anytliing of the kind, he knew well enough, and per- 
haps they would not be willing to make an exception 
in this case. He wished very much he could ask 
their permission, but that, of course, was out of the 
question. The mere mention of such a thing would 
assuredly raise a howl of derision from the other boys, 
and even Teter Johnston would no doubt ask con- 
temptuously if ^‘he was going to back out of it in 
that way.” 

No, no; he must take the chances of his parents’ 
approval, and likewise — and here came in the third 
difficulty — of Dr, Johnston’s, also, for he could not 
help wondering what the doctor would think when 
he heard of it, as he was certain to do. 

Thus perplexed and bewildered, the morning 
dragged slowly along for Bert, who would one moment 
be wishing that recess time could be postponed in- 
definitely, and the next, impatient for its arrival. 

At length twelve o’clock struck, and the boys, who 
were by this time all fully aware of what was in the 
wind, crowded out into the yard and quickly formed 
a ring in the corner farthest away from the school- 
room. Into this ring presently stepped Rod Graliam, 
looking very jaunty and defiant, supported by Harry 
Rawdon, the fly catcher, the one friend he had in the 
school. A moment later came Bert Lloyd, pale but 
determined, with Teter and Frank on either side of 
him, Frank wearing an expression that said as plainly 
as possible: 


182 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


“ Whip my friend Bert, if you dare.” 

It is neither necessary nor expedient to go into the 
details of the fight, which did not last very long. 
Acting on Teter’s sage advice, Bert made no attempt 
to defend himself, but rusiiing into close quarters at 
once, sent in swinging blows with right and left 
hands alternately, striking Bod upon the face and 
chest, while the latter’s blows fell principally upon 
his forehead ; until finally, in the fourth round, Gra- 
ham, whose face had suffered severely, gave up the 
contest, and covering his head with his hands, ran 
away from Bert, who was too tired to pursue him. 

Great was the cheering at this conclusive result; 
and Bert, panting, perspiring, and exhausted, found 
himself the centre of a noisy throng of his school- 
mates, who wrung his hand, clapped him upon the 
back, called him all sorts of names that were com- 
plimentary, and, in fact, gave him a regular ovation. 
After he had gone to the tap and bathed his hot face, 
Bert was very much pleased to find that the brunt of 
the battle had fallen upon his forehead, and that, 
consequently, he would hardly be marked at all. To 
be sure, when he tried to put his cap on, he discovered 
that it would be necessary to wear it very much on 
the back of his head, but he felt like doing that, any- 
way, so it didn’t matter. 

He would have liked to shake hands with Bod, and 
make it all up, but Bod was not to be found. After 
fleeing from his opponent, he had snatched up his 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


183 


coat, and, deserted even by Kawdon, who was disgusted 
at his running away, he had gone out into the street, 
and did not appear again for the rest of the day. 

His victory worked a great change in Bert’s feelings. 
He was no longer troubled about what his parents 
would think of the fight. He felt sure they would 
applaud him, now that he had come out of it with 
banners flying, so to speak. And he was not far from 
right, either. Mrs. Lloyd, it is true, was a good 
deal shocked at first, and Mr. Lloyd questioned him 
very closely ; but when they heard the whole story, 
much of which, indeed, was already familiar to them, 
they both agreed that under the circumstances Bert 
could not have acted otherwise, without placing him- 
self in a false position. 

‘^At the same time, Bert dear,” said his father, 
laying his hand upon his shoulder, ^^as it is your first, 
so I hope it will be your last fight. You have estab- 
tablished your reputation for courage now. You can 
sustain it in other ways than by your fists.” 

Dr. Johnston’s method of showing that he was 
fully cognizant of the event was highly cliaracteristic. 
The next morning when Bert, with swollen forehead, 
and Kod, with blackened eyes, came before him in 
the same class, he said, with one of his sardonic 
smiles: 

‘^Ah, Graham, I see Lloyd has been writing his 
autograph on you. Well, let that be an end of it. 
Shake hands with one another.” 


184 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Bert immediately put out his hand and grasped 
Bod’s, which was but half extended. 

Very good,” said the doctor. We will now pro- 
ceed with the lesson.” 

One of the most interested and excited spectators of 
the fight had been Dick Wilding, a boy who will re- 
quire a few words of description. He was the son of 
one of the merchant princes of the city, and was ac- 
customed to everything that the highest social station 
and abundant wealth could procure. He was a hand- 
some young fellow, and, although thoroughly spoiled 
and selfish, was not without his good points, a lavish 
generosity being the most noteworthy. This, of 
course, supplemented by his reckless daring as regards 
all schoolboy feats, and natural aptitude for schoolboy 
sports, made him very popular at the school, and he 
had a large following. Previous to Bert’s decisive 
victory over Bod Graham, he had not shown any 
particular interest in him, beyond committing himself 
to the opinion that he was a ‘‘regular brick” on the 
occasion of the hoisting, and again, when Bert bore 
his whipping so manfully. But since the fight, he 
had exhibited a strong desire to have Bert join the 
circle of his companions, and to this end cultivated 
his society in a very marked way. 

Now this same Dick Wilding had been in Mrs. 
Lloyd’s mind, when she had hesitated about Bert’s 
going to Dr. Johnston’s. She knew well what his 
bringing up had been, and had heard several stories 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


185 


about him, which made her dread his being a com- 
panion for Bert. She had accordingly spoken to Bert 
about Dick, and while taking care not to be too 
pointed, had made it clear that she did not want them 
to be intimate. This was when Bert first went to the 
school, and as there had seemed no prospect of any- 
thing more than a mere acquaintance springing up 
between the two boys, nothing had been said on the 
subject for some time, so that it was not fresh in his 
mind when Dick, soniewhat to his surprise, showed 
such a desire for his society. 

Dick’s latest enterprise was the organization of a 
cricket club, into which he was putting a great deal of 
energy. As the bats and balls and other necessary 
articles \vere to be paid for out of his own pocket, he 
found no difficulty in getting recruits, and the list of 
members was fast filling up. Bert had heard a good 
deal about this club, and would have liked very much 
to belong to it, but as nobody belonged except those 
who had been invited by Dick, his prospects did not 
seem very bright. Great, then, was his delight when 
one day at recess, Dick came up to him and said in 
his most winning way : 

Say, Bert, don’t you want to join my cricket 
club? I’d like to have you in.” 

Bert did not take long to answer. 

‘‘And I’d like to join ever so much,” he replied, 
in great glee. 

“All right, then ; consider yourself a member, and 


186 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


come round to the field beliind our house this after- 
noon. We practice there every day.” 

Bert was fairly dancing with joy. Yet he did not 
forget his friend Frank. If Frank were not a mem- 
ber of the club, too, half the pleasure of it would be 
gone. So before Dick went off, he ventured to say : 

Frank Bowser would like to belong, too, I know. 
Won’t you ask him?” 

Certainly. No objection at all,” replied Dick, in 
an off-hand way. Bring him along with you this 
afternoon.” 

With beaming face, Bert rushed over to where Frank 
was busy playing marbles, and, drawing him aside, 
shouted rather than whispered in his ear : 

I’ve got something splendid to tell you. Dick 
Wilding has asked us both to join his cricket club, 
and we’re to go to his field this very afternoon.” 

^^You don’t say so!” exclaimed Frank, his face 
now beaming as brightly as Bert's. Isn’t that just 
splendid ! I wanted to belong to that club ever so 
much, but was afraid Dick wouldn’t ask me.” 

They had a capital game of cricket that afternoon 
in the Wilding field, which made a very good ground 
indeed, and not only that afternoon, but for many 
afternoons as spring passed into summer and the days 
grew longer and warmer. Bert told them at home 
about the club, but somehow omitted to mention the 
prominent part Dick Wilding played in it. In fact, 
he never mentioned his name at all, nor that it was his 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


187 


father’s field in which the club met. This was the 
first step in a path of wrong, the taking of which was 
soon to lead to serious consequences. 

His reason for suppressing Dick Wilding’s name 
was plain enough. He knew that in all probability 
it would put an end to his connection with the club. 
Now this club had every attraction for a boy like 
Bert that such an organization could possibly possess. 
It was select and exclusive, for none could belong 
except those who were invited by Dick. The field 
was a lovely place to play in, and they had it all to 
themselves. The balls and bats and stumps were 
first class, a fine set of cricket gear having been one 
of Dick’s Christmas presents; and, finally, Dick was 
always bringing out to the players iced lemonade, or 
ginger beer, or spruce beer, or something of the kind, 
which was wonderfully welcome to them wheu hot 
and tired and thirsty. 

With such strong arguments as these, Bert did not 
find it difficult to quiet his conscience when it troubled 
him, as it did now and then, and he continued to be 
a great deal in Dick Wilding’s society until something 
happened which caused him to bitterly regret that he 
had not heeded the inward monitor, and kept away 
from the associations his wise mother wished him to 
avoid. 

Mrs. Lloyd had good reason for dreading Dick 
Wilding’s companionship for her boy, as Dick could 
hardly fail to do Bert harm, while the chances of 


188 


BERT IXOYD’s- BOYHOOD. 

Bert doing him any good were very small, since he 
was quite a year older and well set in his own ways. 
Dick’s parents were thorough people of the world. 
Their religion consisted in occupying a velvet-cush- 
ioned pew in a fashionable church on Sunday morn- 
ing, and doing as they pleased the rest of the day. 
They made no attempt to teach their son anything 
more than good manners, taking it quite for granted 
that tlie other virtues would spring up of themselves. 
Dick was not much to be blamed, therefore, if he had 
rather hazy views about right and wrong. He had 
not really an evil nature, but he had a very easy 
conscience, and the motto by which he shaped his 
conduct might well have been ; ^^Get your own way. 
Get it honestly, if you can. But — get it.” 

Now, this cricket club had taken a great hold upon 
his fancy, and his whole heart was wrapped up in it. 
He was captain, of course, and all the other boys 
obeyed him implicitly. Their docility ministered to 
his pride, and he showed his appreciation by fairly 
showering his. bounty upon them. There positively 
seemed no end to his pocket money. All sorts of 
expenses were indulged in. A fine tent w^as set up 
for the boys to put their hats and coats in and sit 
under when not playing, the ginger-beer man had 
orders to call round every afternoon and leave a dozen 
bottles of his refreshing beverage, and more than once 
the club, instead of playing, adjourned, at Dick’s 
invitation, to an ice-cream saloon, and had a regular 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


189 


feast of ice cream. When some indiscreet com- 
panion would express his astonishment at the length 
of Dick’s purse, the latter would answer, carelessly : 

Plenty of funds. Father, and mother, and uncle 
all give me money. There’s lots more where this 
came from,” jingling a handful of silver as he spoke. 
So, indeed, there was; but had it any business to be 
in Master Dick’s pocket ? 

This delightful state of affairs went on for some 
weeks, no one enjoying it more than Bert, and then 
came a revelation that broke upon the boys like a 
thunder-clap out of a clear sky. 

One evening, Mr. Wilding came over to see Mr. 
Lloyd, looking very grave and troubled. They had 
a long talk together in Mr. Lloyd’s study, and when 
he went away Mr. Lloyd looked as grave and troubled 
as his visitor. After showing Mr. Wilding out, he 
called his wife into the library, and communicated to 
her what he had just heard, and it must have been 
sorrowful news, for Mrs. Lloyd’s face bore unmistak- 
able signs of tears, when presently she went out for 
Bert, who was hard at work upon his lessons in the 
dining room. 

The moment Bert entered the room he saw that 
something was the matter. The faces of his father 
and mother were very sorrowful, and an indefinable 
feeling of apprehension took hold of him. He was 
not long left in uncertainty as to the cause of the 
trouble. 


190 


BERT T.LOYD’s BOYHOOD. 


Bert,” said his father, gravely, have you seen 
much of Dick Wilding lately ? ” 

Bert blushed, and hesitated a moment, and then 
answered : 

‘‘ Yes, father ; a good deal. He’s the captain of 
our cricket club, you know.” 

I did not know until now that you have told me, 
Bert,'’ said Mr. Lloyd, looking meaningly at him. 

You never told me before, did you?” 

The color deepened on Bert’s face. 

No, father ; I don’t think I did,” he murmured. 

‘^Had you any reason for saying nothing about 
him, Bert? Were you afraid we would not let you 
belong to the club if we knew that Dick Wilding 
was its captain?” asked Mr. Lloyd. 

Bert made no reply, but his head drooped low upon 
his breast, and his hands playing nervously with the 
buttons of his coat told the whole story more plainly 
than words could have done. Mr. Lloyd sighed 
deeply and looked at his wife as though to say : 

There’s no doubt about it ; our boy has been de- 
ceiving us,” while Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes once more filled 
with tears which she turned away to hide. 

After a pause, during which Bert seemed to hear 
the beating of his own heart as distinctly as the tick- 
ing of the big clock upon the mantel, Mr. Lloyd 
said, in tones that showed deep feeling : 

We would have been sorry enough to find out 
that our boy had been deceiving us, but what shall 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


191 


we say at finding out that he has been a sharer in 
pleasures purchased with stolen money ? 

Bert looked up in surprise. Stolen money ! What 
could his father mean ? Mr. Lloyd understood the 
movement, and anticipated the unasked question. 

Yes, Bert ; stolen money. The beer, the candy, 
and the ice cream, which Dick Wilding lavished 
upon you so freely, were paid for with money stolen 
from his mother’s money drawer. He found a key 
Avhich fitted the lock, and has taken out, no one 
knows just how much money; and you have been 
sharing in what that stolen money purchased.” 

Bert was fairly stunned. Dick Wilding a thief ! 
And he a sharer in the proceeds of his guilt ! He felt 
as though he must run and hide himself. That Dick 
should do wrong was not entirely a surprise to him, 
but that his sin in being a companion of Dick’s on 
the sly should be found out in this way, this it was 
which cut him to the heart. Without a word of ex- 
cuse to offer, he sat there, self-condemned and speech- 
less. The silence of the room was appalling. He 
could not bear it any longer. Springing from his 
chair, he rushed across the room, threw himself on 
his knees before his mother, and putting his head in 
her lap, burst into a paroxysm of tears, sobbing as 
though his heart would break. 

Poor Bert, poor Bert!” murmured his mother, 
tenderly, passing her hand softly over the curly head 
in her lap. 


192 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Mr. Llojd was deeply moved, and put his hand up 
to his eyes to conceal the tears fast welling from them. 
For some minutes the quiet of the room was broken 
only by Bert’s sobs, and the steady ticking of the 
clock upon the mantlepiece. 

Mr. Lloyd was the first to speak. 

You had better get up and go to your room, 
Bert. We both know how sorry you are, and we 
forgive you for having so disobeyed us. But we are 
not the only ones of whom you must ask forgiveness. 
Go to your knees, Bert, and ask God to forgive you.” 

Bert rose slowly to his feet, and not venturing to 
look either his father or mother in the face, was going 
out of the door, when his father called him back. 

‘^Just one word more, Bert. It is not long since 
you won a brave fight, and now you have been sadly 
defeated by a far worse enemy than Bod Graham. 
You can, in your own strength, overcome human foes, 
but only by divine strength can you overcome the 
tempter that has led you astray this time. Pray for 
this strength, Bert, for it is the kind the Bible means 
when it says, ‘ Quit you like men, be strong.’ ” 

And with a look of deep affection, Mr. Lloyd' let 
Bert go from him. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A NAREOW ESCAPE.. 

S O keenly did Bert feel his disgrace, that it was 
some time before he regained his wonted spirits ; 
and his continued depression gave his mother no little 
concern, so that she took every way of showing to 
him that her confidence in him was unimpaired, and 
that she asked no further proof of his penitence than 
he had already given. But Bert’s sensitive nature 
had received a shock from which it did not readily 
recover. From his earliest days he had been pecu- 
liarly free from the desire to take what did not 
belong to him; and as he grew older, this had 
developed into a positive aversion to anything that 
savored of stealing in the slightest degree. He 
never could see any fun in hooking” another 
boy’s lunch, as so many others did, and nothing 
could induce him to join in one of the numerous 
expeditions organized to raid sundry unguarded 
orchards in the outskirts of the city. 

His firmness upon this point led to a curious 
scene one afternoon. School was just out, and a 
group of the boys, among whom were Bert and, 
of course. Frank Bowser, was discussing what they 
should do with themselves, when Ned Boss pro- 
N 193 


) 


194 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


posed that they should go out to the Hosterman 
orchard, and see if they could not get some apples. 
A chorus of approval came from all but Bert, who 
immediately turned away and made as though he 
would go home. 

Hallo ! Bert," cried Ned Boss, aren't you 
coming ? " 

^^No," replied Bert, very decidedly. ^H'm not.'’ 

Why not?" inquired Ned. What's the matter?" 

Those are not our apples, Ned, and w^e've got 
no right to touch 'em," answered Bert. 

^^Bosh and nonsense!" exclaimed Ned. ‘^All the 
boys take them, and nobody ever hinders them. 
Come along." 

^^No," said Bert, ^‘1 can't." 

Can't? Why can't you?" persisted Ned, who 
was rapidly losing his temper. 

Bert hesitated a moment, and the color mounted 
high in his cheeks. Then he spoke out his reason 
bravely : 

Because I'm a Christian, Ned; and it would 
not be right for me to do it." 

^^A Christian?" sneered Ned. You'd be nearer 
the truth if you said a coward." 

The words had hardly left his lips before Frank 
Bowser was standing before him, shaking in his face 
a fist that was not to be regarded lightly. 

^^Say that again," cried Frank, wrathfully, ^^and 
I'll knock you down 1" 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


195 


Ned looked at Frank’s face, and then at his fist. 
There was no mistaking the purpose of either, and 
as Frank was fully his match, if not more, he 
thought it prudent to say nothing more than : 
“ Bah ! Come on, fellows. We can get along 
without him.” 

The group moved off; but Bert was not the 
only one who stayed behind. Frank stayed, too; 
and so did Ernest Linton. And these three sought 
their amusement in another direction. 

That scene very vividly impressed Bert, and over 
and over again he thought to himself : “ What will 
the boys who heard me refuse to go to the orchard, 
because I am a Christian, think of me when they 
hear that I have been helping to spend stolen 
money ? ” 

This was the thought that troubled him most, but 
it was not the only one. He felt that he could not be 
at ease with his beloved Sunday-school teacher again, 
until he had made a full confession to him. But, oh I 
this did seem so hard to do ! Several Sundays passed 
without his being able to make up his mind to do it. 
At length he determined to put it off no longer, and 
one Sunday afternoon, lingering behind after the school 
had been dismissed, he poured the whole story into 
Mr. Silver’s sympathetic ear. 

Mr. Silver was evidently moved to the heart, as 
Bert, without sparing himself, told of his disobedience, 
his concealment, and the consequences that followed ; 


196 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


and he had many a wise and tender word for the boy, 
whose confidence in him made him proud. From 
that day a peculiar fondness existed between the two, 
and Mr. Silver was inspired to increased fidelity and 
effort in his work because of the knowledge that one 
at least of his boys looked upon him with such affec- 
tion and confidence. 

Once that summer had fairly come to stay, the 
wharves of the city became full of fascination for 
the boys, and every afternoon they trooped thither to 
fish for perch and tommy cods; to board the vessels 
lying in their berths, and out-do one another in feats 
of rigging climbing; to play glorious games of ‘‘hide 
and seek,^^ and spy,’^ in the great cavernous ware- 
houses, and when tired to gather around some idle 
sailor, and have him stir their imagination with mar- 
velous stories of the sea. 

For none had the wharves more attraction than for 
Bert and Frank, and although Mrs. Lloyd would not 
allow the former to go down Water Street, where he 
would be far from home, she did not object to his 
spending an afternoon now and then on a wharf not 
far from their own house. So thither the two friends 
repaired at every opportunity, and fine fun they had, 
dropping their well-baited hooks into the clear green 
water, to catcii eager perch, or watching the hard work- 
ing sailors dragging huge casks of molasses out of 
dark and grimy holds, and rolling them up the wharf 
to be stored in the vast cool warehouses, or running 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 197 

risks of being pickled themselves, as they followed 
the fish-curers in their work of preparing the salt 
herring or mackerel for their journey to the hot West 
Indies. There never was any lack of employment, . 
for eyes, or hands, or feet, on that busy wharf, and 
the boys felt very proud when they were permitted to 
join the workers sometimes and do their little best, 
which was all the more enjoyable because they could 
stop whenever they liked, and hadn’t to work all day 
as the others did. 

Nor were these the only attractions. The principal 
business done at this wharf was with the West Indies, 
and no vessel thought of coming back from that re- 
gion of fruits without a goodly store of oranges, ba- 
nanas, and pineapples, some of which, if the boys 
were not too troublesome, and the captain had made 
a good voyage, were sure to find their way into very 
appreciative mouths. Bert’s frank, bright manner, 
and plucky spirit made him a great favorite with the 
captains, and many a time was he sent home with a 
big juicy pine, or an armful of great golden oranges. 

One day, when Bert and Frank went down to the 
wharf, they found a strange-looking vessel made fast 
to the piles that filled them with curiosity. She was a 
barquentine, and was sparred, and rigged, and painted 
in a rather unusual way, the explanation of it all being 
that she was a Spanish vessel, of an old-fashioned 
type. Quite in keeping with the appearance of the 
vessel was the appearance of the crew. They were 


198 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


nearly all Lascars, and with their tawny skins, flash- 
ing eyes, jet black hair, and gold-ringed ears, seemed 
to fit very well the description of the pirates, whose 
dreadful deeds, as graphically described in sundry 
books, had given the boys many a delicious thrill of 
horror. This resemblance caused them to look upon 
the foreigners with some little fear at first, but their 
curiosity soon overcame all considerations of prudence, 
and after hanging about for a while, they bashfully 
accepted the invitation extended them by a swarthy 
sailor, whose words were unintelligible, but whose 
meaning was unmistakable. 

On board the Santa Maria — for that was the 
vessel’s name — they found much to interest them, and 
the sailors treated them very kindly, in spite of their 
piratical appearance. What delighted them most was 
a monkey that belonged to the cook. He was one of 
the cutest, cleverest little creatures that ever parodied 
humanity. His owner had taught him a good many 
tricks, and he had taught himself even more; and 
both the boys felt that in all their lives they had 
never seen so entertaining a pet. He completely 
captivated them, and they would have given all they 
possessed to make him their own. But the cook had 
no idea of parting with him, even had it been in their 
power to buy him ; so they had to content themselves 
with going down to see him as often as they could. 

Of course, they told their schoolmates about him, 
and of course the schoolmates were set wild with 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


199 


curiosity to see this marvelous monkey, and they 
•flocked down to the Santa Maria ” in such numbers, 
and so often, that at last the sailors p^ot tired of them. 
A mob of schoolboys invading the deck every after- 
noon, and paying uproarious homage to the cleverness 
of a monkey, was more or less of a nuisance. Accord- 
ingh^, by way of a gentle hint, the rope ladder, by 
which easy access was had to the vessel, was removed, 
and a single rope put in its place. 

It happened that the first afternoon after this had 
been done, the crowd of visitors was larger than 
ever ; and when they arrived at the Santa Maria’s ” 
side, and found the ladder gone, they were, as may be 
easily imagined, very much disgusted. A rope might 
be good enough for a sailor, but the boys very much 
preferred a ladder, and they felt disposed to resent 
the action of the sailors in thus cutting ofi* their means 
of ascent. The fact that it was high tide at the time, 
and the tall sides of the ship towered above the wharf, 
constituted a further grievance in the boys’ minds. 
They held an impromptu indignation meeting forth- 
with. But, although they were unanimous in con- 
demning the conduct of the foreigners, who evidently 
did not know any better, they were still no nearer the 
monkey. 

Why not try to shin up the rope ? ” asked Frank 
Bowser, after a while. 

All right, if you’ll give us a lead,” replied one of 
the others. 


200 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Very well — here goes!” returned Frank. And 
without more ado he grasped the rope, planted his 
feet firmly against the vessel’s side, and began to 
ascend. It was evidently not the easiest thing in the 
world to do, but his pluck, determination, and muscle 
conquered ; and presently, somewliat out of breath, he 
sat upon the bulwark, and, waving his cap to the boys 
below, gasped out : 

Come along, boys I It’s as easy as winking.” 

Not to be outdone, several others made the attempt 
and succeeded also. Then came Bert’s turn. Although 
so many had gotten up all right, he somehow felt a 
little nervous, and made one or two false starts, 
climbing up a little ways and then dropping back 
again. This caused those who were waiting to be- 
come impatient, and while Bert was about making 
another start, one of them who stood behind him gave 
him a sharp push, saying : 

“Hurry up there, slow coach.” 

As it happened, Bert was just at that moment 
changing his grip upon the rope, and balancing 
himself upon the extreme edge of the stringer, 
which formed the edge of the wharf. The ill- 
timed push caught him unawares. He threw out 
his arms to steady himself, and the rope slipped 
altogether from his grasp. The next instant, with 
a cry of fear that was taken up by the boys stand- 
ing helplessly about, he fell over into the dark, swirl- 
ing water, between the vessel’s side and the wharf. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


201 


Down, down, down, he went, while the water roared 
in his ears with the thunders of Niagara, and filled 
his mouth with its sickening brine, as instinctively he 
opened it to cry for help. He could not swim a 
stroke, but he had a good idea of what the motions 
were, and so now, in a desperate effort to save his 
life, he struck out vigorously with his hands. It 
must have helped him, too; for out of the dark- 
ness into which he had been plunged at first, he 
emerged into a lighter place, where, through the 
green water, he could see his hands looking very 
white, as they moved before his face. 

But this did not bring him to the surface; so 
he tried another plan. Doubling his sturdy legs 
beneath him, he shot them out as he had seen 
other boys do when ^Hreading water.” A thrill 
of joy inspired him as the effort succeeded, and, 
his head rising above the surface, he got one good 
breath before sinking again. But the pitiless water 
engulfed him once more, and, though he struggled 
hard, he seemed unable to keep himself from sink- 
ing deeper still. Then the desire to struggle began 
to leave him. Life seemed no longer a thing to be 
fiercely striven for. A strange peace stole over his 
mind, and was followed by a still stranger thing; for 
while he floated there, an unresisting prey to the deep, 
it appeared as though all the events of his past life 
were crowding before him like some wonderful pan- 
orama. From right to left, they followed one another 


202 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


in orderly procession, each as clear and distinct as a 
painted picture, and he was watching them with ab- 
sorbed, painless interest, when something dark came 
across his vision ; he felt himself grasped firmly, and 
drawn swiftly through the water, and the next thing 
he knew, he was in the light and air again, and was 
being handed up to the top of the wharf by men who 
passed him carefully from one to the other. In the 
very nick of time, rescue had come, and Bert was 
brought back to life. 

Now, who was his rescuer, and what took place 
while Bert was struggling for his life in the cold, 
dark water? The instant he disappeared, the boys 
shouted and shrieked in such a way as to bring the 
whole crew of the “Santa Maria to the bulwarks, 
over which they eagerly peered, not understanding 
what was the matter. Frank, who was in a frenzy 
of anxiety and alarm, tried hard to explain to them; 
but his efforts were unavailing until the reappearance 
of Bert’s head made the matter plain at once, and 
then he thought they would, of course, spring to the 
rescue. But they did not. They looked at one an- 
other, and jabbered something unintelligible, but not 
one of them moved, though Frank seized the liveliest 
of them by the arm, and, pointing to the place where 
Bert vanished, again indicated, by unmistakable ges- 
tures, what he wanted him to do. The man simply 
shook his head and moved away. He either could 
not swim, or did not think it worth while to risk his 


BERT ELOYD’s BOYHOOD. 


203 


precious life in trying to rescue one of the foreign 
urchins that had been bothering the Santa Maria 
of late. Had Berths life depended upon these men, 
it might have been given up at once. 

But there was other help at hand. John Connors, 
the good-natured Irish storekeeper, by whose suffer- 
ance the boys were permitted to make a playground 
of the wharf, had heard their frantic cries, although 
he was away up in one of the highest flats of the 
farthest store. Without stopping to see what could be 
the matter, Connors leaped down the long flights of 
stairs at a reckless rate, and ran toward the shrieking 
boys. 

Bert’s overboard — save him ! ” they cried, as he 
burst into their midst. 

Where ? ” he asked, breathlessly, while he flung 
off his boots. 

“There — -just there,” they replied, pointing to 
where Bert had last been seen. 

Balancing hiniself for an instant on. the end of the 
stringer, Connors, with the spring of a practiced 
swimmer, dove into the depths, and disappeared ; 
while the boys, in the silence of intense anxiety, 
crowded as close as they dared to the edge of the 
wharf, and the Lascars looked down from their bul- 
warks in stolid admiration. There were some moments 
of harrowing uncertainty, and then a shout arose from 
the boys, which even the swarthy sailors imitated, after 
a fashion ; for cleaving the bubbled surface came the 


204 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


head of brave John Connors, and close beside it the 
dripping curls of Bert Lloyd, the faces of both showing 
great exhaustion. 

The sailors were all alert now. Ropes were hastily 
flung over the side, and swarming down these with 
the agility of monkeys, they took Bert out of his 
rescuer’s hands and passed him up to the wharf; Con- 
nors followed unassisted, so soon as he had recovered 
his breath. 

Once upon the wharf, they were surrounded by a 
noisy group of boys, overjoyed at their playmate’s 
happy escape from death, and overflowing with admir- 
ation for his gallant rescuer. Bert very quickly came 
to himself — for he had not indeed entirely lost con- 
sciousness — and then Connors told him just how he 
had gotten hold of him : 

When I dived down first I couldn’t see anything 
of you at all, my boy, and I went hunting about with 
my eyes wide open and looking for you. At last, just 
as I was about giving you up, I saw something dark 
below me that I thought might p’r’aps be yourself. 
So I just ^uck out my foot, and by the powers if it 
didn’t take you right under the chin. As quick as a 
wink I drew you toward me, and once I had a good 
grip of you, I put for the top as hard as I could go ; 
and here we are now, safe and sound. And, faith, I 
hope you won’t be trying it again in a hurry.” 

Bert was very much in earnest when he assured 
him he would not, and still more in earnest when he 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


205 


tried to express his gratitude. But Connors would 
none of it. 

Not at all, not at all, my boy,” said he, with a 
laugh. A fine young chap like you is well worth 
saving any day, and it’s not in John Connors to stand 
by and see you drown, even if those black-faced fur- 
riners don’t know any better.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


LEARNING TO SWIM. 

B ERT’S appearance, when he made his way home 
with dripping clothes, and face still pale from 
what he had undergone, created no small consterna- 
tion. His sister was particularly alarmed, and it took 
some time to convince her that, once having gotten out 
of the grasp of the greedy water, he was really in no 
more danger. Had she been permitted to have her 
own way, she would have bundled him off to bed 
forthwith, and filled up any little corners inside of 
liim that the sea water had left unoccupied, with warm 
raspberry vinegar. But Bert would none of it, and 
Mrs. Lloyd, although a good deal startled at first, 
soon recovered her self-possession sufficiently to agree 
with him, when he insisted that all he wanted was 
some dry clothes and a rest. 

The dry clothes were quickly furnished, and having 
put them on, he returned to the sitting room to tell 
them all about his rescue, Frank being at hand to fill 
in any details that he missed in the recital. The 
tears stood in his mother’s eyes, as he related what he 
had felt and thought during those eventful moments ' 
when his life hung in the balance; tears of distress, ^ 
of sympathy, of joy, and finally of gratitude, as in 
206 




f 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


207 


glowing words he described how noble John Connors 
had dived away down into the dark green depths to 
rescue him just in the nick of time. 

Oil, Bert darling,” she exclaimed, when he had 
finished, folding him to her breast, how good God 
was to send dear brave Connors to your help! We 
cannot praise him enough, and, dearest, don’t you 
think he must intend you to be something good and 
great for him, when he thus spared your life? And 
that dear man Connors ! — I feel as though I could kiss 
the hands that drew you from the water. Your father 
must go to-night, and tell him how grateful we are ; 
and he must do more than that — he must reward him 
.well for running such a risk to save our boy.” 

When Mr. Lloyd came home and learned what had 
happened, he made no pretence of concealing his 
emotion. The very thought of losing in that dread- 
ful way the boy who was the joy and pride of his life 
filled him with horror,* and no words could express 
his fervent gratitude to Connors, and to God, for 
sending so courageous a rescuer. So soon as dinner 
was over he set off in search of him, taking Bert with 
liim. Connors’s home was easily found, and Connors 
himself sat smoking his evening pipe upon the door 
step, as unconcernedly as though he had done nothing 
, out of the way that afternoon. 

The object of Mr. Lloyd’s visit was soon made 
•dviiown, but liQ found more difficulty than he expected 
in giving such expression as he desired to the gratitude 


208 BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 

lie felt. Conuors was quite willing to be thanked, 
and accepted Mr. Lloyd’s fervent words with a re- 
spectful acquiescence that well became him, but when 
Mr. Lloyd broached the subject of a more tangible 
reward, Connors quite as respectfully, but very firmly, 
refused. 

want no reward for saving your boy, sir. It’s 
proud I am of pulling so fine a boy as that out of the 
water. I did no more than you’d do for my boy, sir, 
if he were in the same scrape,” said he, in reply to 
Mr. Lloyd’s delicately worded offer. 

^‘That may be, Connors. I’m sure I would do as 
you say, but all the same I would feel much more 
comfortable if you would accept tliis purse as some 
expression of my gratitude,” urged Mr. Lloyd. 

“ And, thanking you kindly, sir, I’d feel much 
more comfortable if I didn’t take it,” returned Con- 
nors, in a tone there was no mistaking. So Mr. Lloyd, 
resolving in his mind that Ke would find out some 
other way of rewarding the worthy fellow, said no 
more then, and shortly after took his leave. 

As Bert and his father walked home together they 
were still talking about the event of the afternoon. 

‘‘If you had been drowned, Bert, it would to some 
extent have been my fault,” said Mr. Lloyd ; “ for 

I should not have so long neglected teaching you to 
swim. A boy of your age ought to be well able to 
take care of himself in the water, and*I should have 
seen that you were. However, now that this escape 


209 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 

of yours has waked me up, I will attend to the 
matter at ouce. So we will begin to-morrow morning, 
Bert, and have a swimming lesson every day before 
breakfast.’^ 

Oh, father; I’m so glad,” exclaimed Bert, skipping 
about joyfully. I want to know how to swim ever 
so much, and I’ll soon learn if you’ll teach me.” 

All right, my boy. You see to waking me in 
good time, and I’ll see that you learn to swim,” re- 
plied Mr. Lloyd, clapping Bert affectionately on the 
back. 

The next morning at six o’clock Bert was rapping 
loudly on his father’s door, and calling upon him to 
get up, and a quarter of an hour later the pair with 
towels on their arms were off in the direction of a 
secluded, deserted wharf that would just suit their 
purpose. 

On arriving at this place, Mr. Lloyd showed Bert 
how he proposed to teach him to swim, and it cer- 
tainly was about as excellent a way as could well 
have been devised. He had brought with him two 
things besides the towels : a piece of rope about the 
thickness of a clothes line, and ten yards or more in 
length, and a strong linen band, two yards in length. 
The linen band he put round Bert’s shoulders in such 
a way that there was no possibility of its slipping, or 
interfering with the action of his arms ; and then the 
rope was so fastened to the band that when Bert was 
in the water his father, standing on the wharf above 
o 


210 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


him, could hold him in just the right position for 
swimming. 

The preparations having been completed, Bert was 
bidden descend the steps and plunge into the water. 
He started off bravely enough, but when he reached 
the bottom step he hesitated. The water was at least 
ten feet in depth beneath him, and he had never been 
over his head,’^ as they say, before, except when he 
came so near being drowned. Naturally, therefore, 
he shrank from committing himself to the deep in this 
fashion. 

“Well, Bert, what’s the matter? Are you afraid 
the water is too cold ?” asked his father, as he noticed 
his hesitation. 

“No, sir; not exactly,” answered Bert, feeling half 
ashamed of himself. 

“ You’re afraid it’s too deep, then ?” suggested Mr. 
Lloyd. And Bert looked up with a smile that showed 
he had hit the mark. 

“Never mind, my boy,” said Mr. Lloyd, cheer- 
ingly. “You’re all right. I won’t let go of you. 
Jump in like a man.” 

Bert hung back a moment; then, shutting his 
mouth tightly and closing his eyes, he sprang boldly 
into the cool, green water. He went under a little at 
first, but a slight tug on the rope brought him quickly 
to the top, and recovering his breath and his self-pos- 
session at the same time, he struck out with his arms 
and kicked with his . legs, according to the best of 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


211 


his ability. His motions were sadly unskillful, as 
may be easily imagined, and although they used up 
his strength pretty rapidly, they would not have kept 
his head above water for a minute; but a gentle 
pressure on the rope in Mr. Lloyd’s hand made that 
all right, and, feeling quite at his ease, Bert struggled 
away until he was tired out, and then his father, who 
had all the time been cheering and directing him, 
drew him back to the steps, and the lesson was 
over. 

'‘You did very well, Bert; very well, indeed,” 
said he, in tones of warm approval, as Bert proceeded 
to rub off the salt water and get into his clothes again. 
" I don’t think it will take a great many lessons to 
make a swimmer of you.” 

And Mr. Lloyd’s confidence was well founded ; for 
so earnestly did Bert give himself to the business of 
learning to swim that by the end of a fortnight he 
could go ten yards out and back without any help 
from the rope at all. Another fortnight and the rope 
was no longer needed. Mr. Lloyd now went into the 
water with Bert, and, swimnaing out to the middle of 
the dock, would have the boy come to him, and after 
resting upon his broad shoulders a moment, make 
his way back to the steps again. 

Thus, in little more than a month, Bert became 
quite able to take care of himself in the water under 
ordinary circumstances; and his father, feeling well 
satisfied with his proficiency, gave him liberty to go 


212 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

to the wharves as often as he pleased — a boon Bert 
highly appreciated. 

A pleasure unshared by his faithful Frank was but 
half a pleasure to Bert. Next in importance to his 
being able to swim himself was Frank’s acquiring the 
same invaluable accomplishment. Invaluable? Yes, 
one might indeed rightly use a stronger term, and say 
indispensable; for the education of no boy is com- 
plete until he has mastered the art of swimming. And 
if the boys knew their own interests as thoroughly as 
their parents and guardians ought to know tiiem, they 
would agitate all over the land for the provision of 
swimming baths in connection with their schools, or in 
some other way that would ensure them the oppor- 
tunity of learning what to do with themselves in the 
water, as well as upon the land. 

Frank could swim a stroke or two before Bert took 
him in hand, and consequently was soon able to dis- 
pense with the rope ; but timid little Ernest Linton, 
who was the next pupil, took a lot of teaching, and 
tliere seemed small prospect of his conquering his 
timidity sufficiently to go it alone ” before the swim- 
ming season would be over. 

The fame of Bert’s swimming school spread among 
his playmates to an extent that threatened to be em- 
barrassing. By the time they were half way through 
the midsummer holidays, a crowd of boisterous young- 
sters gathered every morning at the old wharf, and 
struggled for the use of band and rope, until at last 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


213 


there had to be several of these provided. Then they 
had fine fun. A dozen boys would be in the water at 
the same time — some of them expert swimmers, the 
others in all stages of learning — and there would be 
races, splashing matches, unexpected duckings, sly 
tricks upon the nervous learners, and all sorts of 
capers, such as might be expected from boys of their 
age and enterprise. 

By way of deepening the interest in this healthful 
amusement, they organized a competition, the prizes 
being supplied by their parents, who were duly waited 
upon by a properly-authorized committee; and one 
fine August afternoon, the sleepy old wharf was made 
to fairly tremble with excitement, as race followed 
race in quick succession, amid tlie cheering and shout- 
ing of some two-score vigorous boys. Much to his 
delight, Frank succeeded in carrying off the first 
prize. He was a persistent, painstaking fellow when 
his interest was thoroughly aroused, and while other 
chaps were skylarking about in the water, he had 
been practicing long swims, the consequence of which 
was that at the competition — Avhen, of course, the 
best prize was given for the longest race ; the course, 
in this instance, being out to the head of the wharf, 
and back — Frank left all the other contestants behind, 
and came in an easy winner. 

Bert was exceedingly pleased. He had not won 
any prizes himself, except an unimportant little second 
one ; but Frank’s success more than consoled him, and 


214 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


he bore him off home with him in high glee, that the 
family might share in the joy of the occasion. 

Nearly two years now had passed since the two 
friends first made one another’s acquaintance, and the 
course of events had fully confirmed the expectation 
of Bert’s parents, that he would be far more likely to 
influence Frank for good than Frank would be to 
influence him for evil. There had been unmistakable 
improvement in Frank, both in manners and morals. 
Constant af-sociation with a playmate brought up under 
home influences so different from his own ; the wise 
and kindly words that Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd lost no 
opportunity of speaking to him ; the reflnement and 
brightness of their home; the atmosphere of sunny 
religion that pervaded it ; and all these supplemented 
by an ever interesting presentation of common-sense 
Christianity at the hands of Mr. Silver every Sunday 
afternoon, had worked deep into Frank’s strong, stead- 
fast nature, and without being distinctly conscious of 
it himself, he was growing refined, pure, and religious 
in thought and desire, like those with whom it was 
the joy of his life to associate. The current of his 
being had been turned God ward, and in him, though 
he knew it not, Bert had won the first star for his 


crown. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


HOW HOISTING WAS ABOLISHED. 

T he month of September was close at hand, and 
Bert would soon begin his second year with Dr. 
Johnston. Mr. Lloyd, though well content with the 
progress his son had been making in his studies, 
thought it would be a wise thing to hold out some 
extra inducement that might incite him to still greater 
diligence, and so one evening, while the family were 
sitting together, he broached the subject : 

Dr. Johnston gives a lot of prizes at the end of 
the term, doesn’t he, Bert ? ” 

“Yes, sir, a good many; always books, you know,” 
answered Bert. 

“Why didn’t you get a prize of some kind last 
term ? ” asked Mr. Lloyd, with a smile. 

“Oh, I don’t know, father. Didn’t try hard 
enough, I suppose,” replied Bert, smiling in his turn. 
“ W’ell, do you intend to try this term, Bert?” 
“Indeed I do; and Frank’s going to try, too. My 
best chance is in the arithmetic, so I’m going to try 
for that ; and he’s going in for grammar.” 

“Very well, then, Bert, do your best; and if you 
wun a prize I will give you what you have wanted so 
long — a pony.” 


215 ' 


216 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


The expression of Bert’s countenance at this quite 
unexpected announcement was a study. His eyes and 
mouth, the former with surprise, the latter with a 
smile, opened to their fullest extent, and for a monent 
he stood motionless. Then, springing across the floor, 
he leaped into his father’s lap, put both arms around 
his neck, and burying his happy face in the brown 
whiskers, ejaculated, fervently : 

‘^You dear, dear father, you dear, dear father, 
how I do love you!” 

Mr. Lloyd returned the aflectionate hug with in- 
terest, and then, holding Bert out on his knee, said, in 
a playful tone : 

^ ‘^Aren’t you in too much of a hurry about thank- 
ing me, Bert? You haven’t won your pony yet, you 
know ? ” 

That’s all right, father,” returned Bert. “ I mean 
to win it, and what’s more, I’m going to.” 

It need hardly be said that the first item of news 
Bert had for his friend Frank next morning was his 
father’s offer. 

‘‘Won’t it be splendid to have a pony of my very 
own ! ” he exclaimed, his eyes dancing with delight at 
the prospect. “Perhaps your father will give you a 
pony, too, if you win a prize; hey, Frank?” 

Frank shook his head dubiously: 

“Not much chance of that, Bert. That’s not his 
way of doing things.” 

“Oh, well, never mind. You can ride turn about 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 217 

with me on mine, and we’ll have just splendid 
fun.” 

As the boys were talking together, little Ernest 
Linton approached, looking as if he had something 
on his mind. Getting close to Bert, he touched him 
gently on the arm to attract his attention, and, turning 
a very earnest, appealing face to his, said : 

‘^Bert, I want to ask a favor.” 

“ Hallo, Ernie ! what’s up ? ” asked Bert, in liis 
kindest tones. 

Ernest then proceeded to tell him that his* younger 
brother, Paul, was to come to the school in a few days, 
and that he was a very timid, delicate little chap, that 
would be sure to be half frightened out of his life if | 
they hoisted him; and what Ernest wanted was that 
Bert and Frank should see if they could not, in some 
way or other, save Paul from being hoisted. 

The two boys were filled with the idea at once. It 
Avas good enough fun to hoist sturdy fellows like 
themselves, who were none the worse for it ; but if 
Paul were the sort of chap his brother said he Avas, 
it would be a real shame to give him such a scare, and 
they would do their best to prevent its being done. 
Accordingly, they promised Ernest they would pro- 
tect his brother if they could, and Ernest felt very 
much relieved at their promise. 

But how were they going to carry it out? No 
exceptions had been made as to the hoisting since they 
had come to Hr. Johnston’s, but all new boys Avere 


218 


BERT Lloyd's boyhood. 


hoisted with perfect impartiality. They would be 
powerless by themselves, that was certain. Their 
only plan was to persuade a lot of the boys to join 
them, and tliey did not feel entirely sure about being 
able to do this. However, the first thing to be done 
was to ask Teter Johnston. If they could enlist his 
sympathies, their task would be a good deal easier. 
Accordingly, at recess they made directly for Teter, and 
laid the whole matter before him. Like themselves, 
he took hold of it at once. It was just the sort of 
thing that would appeal to his big, warm, manly 
heart, and without hesitation he promised the boys he 
would give them all the help in his power. 

The next step was to secure recruits for their party. 
In this Teter helped them greatly, and Frank was 
very active, too, because big Rod Graham, whom he 
disliked none the less, though Bert had thrashed him 
so soundly, always headed the hoisting party, and 
Frank looked forward with keen delight to balking 
this tormenting bully by means of the anti-hoisting 
party they were now organizing. 

Of course, the movement could not be kept a secret. 
It soon leaked out, and then Rod Graham and Dick 
Wilding — who, by the way, since the stolen money 
episode, had been as cool in his relations with Bert as 
he had previously been cordial, evidently resenting 
very much Bert’s withdrawal from his companion- 
ship — these two, with their associates, began to 
organize in their turn, so that it was not long before 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


219 


the school was divided into two parties, both of which 
were looking forward eagerly to the event which 
should decide which would have their own way. 

On the Monday following the opening of the school 
Ernest Linton brought his brother with him, a slight, 
pale, delicate little fellow, not more than eight years 
old, who clung close to his brother’s side, and looked 
about with a frightened air that was sufficient in itself 
to arouse one’s sympathies. Bert and Frank had 
known him before, but Teter had never seen him, and 
his kind heart prompted him to go up and slap the 
little fellow kindly on the back, saying : 

‘^So you’re Linton’s Brother Paul, eh? Cheer up, 
little chap ; we’ll see they’re not too hard upon you.” 

Paul’s pale face brightened, and looking up with a 
grateful glance, he said, softly; 

Thank you, sir.” 

Teter laughed at being sirred,” and went off, feel- 
ing quite pleased with himself. 

According to the custom of the school, Paul would 
be hoisted at the midday recess of the following day, 
and the boys looked forward eagerly to the struggle 
for which they had been preparing. During the 
morning their thoughts clearly were not upon the les- 
sons, and so many mistakes were made that the 
shrewd doctor suspected there must be something 
brewing, but preferred to let it reveal itself rather 
than to interfere by premature questions. He was a 
profound student of human nature, and especially of 


220 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


boy nature. He knew his boys as thoroughly as an 
Eastern shepherd ever knew his sheep. They were 
like open books before him, and in this perhaps more 
than in anything else lay the secret of his rare success 
as a teacher. 

When the eagerly expected recess came, all the boys, 
with the exception of a small group, poured out 
tumultuously into the street, and ranged themselves 
in two bands in close proximity to the door. The 
group that remained consisted of the two Lintons, 
Bert, Frank, and Teter, the latter three constituting a 
sort of body-guard for poor timorous little Paul, who 
shrank in terror from the ordeal, the nature of which 
in truth he did not fullv understand. Havins^ con- 
suited together for a minute or two, the body-guard 
then moved out through the door, taking care to keep 
Paul in the middle. As thev emerged into the street, 
a kind of hum of suppressed excitement rose from the 
crowd awaiting them, followed immediately by cries 
of Hoist him ! hoist him !” uttered first by Graham 
and Wilding, and quickly taken up by their sup- 
porters. 

Pale with fright, Paul cowered close to Teter, while 
Bert and Frank stood in front of him, and their sup- 
porters quickly encircled them. Then came the 
struggle. Graham and Wilding and their party bore 
down upon Paul’s defenders, and sought to break 
their way through them to reach their intended victim. 
Of course, no blows were struck. The boys all knew 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


221 


better than to do that ; but pushing, hauling, wrestling, 
very much after the fashion of football players in a 
maul, the one party strove to seize Paul, who indeed 
offered no more resistance than an ordinary football, 
and the other to prevent his being carried off. For 
some minutes the issue was uncertain, although the 
hoisting party considerably outnumbered the anti- 
hoisting party. More than once did Graham and 
Wilding force their way into the centre of Paul's 
defenders, and almost have him in their grasp, only to 
be thrust away again ■ by the faithful trio that stood 
about him like the three of whom Macaulay's ringing 
ballad tells : 

“ How well Horatius kept the bridge, 

In the brave days of old.” 

Shouting, struggling, swaying to and fro, the contest 
went on, much to the amusement of a crowd of spec- 
tators, among which the tall, blue-coated form of a 
policeman loomed up prominently, although he 
deigned not to int^’fere. At length the weight of 
superior numbers began to tell, and despite all their 
efforts the anti-hoisting party were borne slowly but 
surely toward the fence, upon which some of the boys 
had already taken* their positions, ready to have Paul 
handed up to them. The case was looking desperate, 
and Teter, heated and wearied with his exertions, had 
just said, in his deepest tones, to Bert and Frank, 
^^Come, boys, all together, try it once more," when 
suddenly a silence fell upon the noisy mob, and their 


222 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


arms, a moment before locked in tense struggling, fell 
limply to their sides ; for there, standing between 
them and the fence, his keen, dark face lighted with a 
curious smile, and holding his hand above his head by 
way of a shield from the hot sun, stood Dr. Johnston ! 

A genuine ghost at midnight could hardly have 
startled the boys more. Absorbed in their struggle, 
they had not seen the doctor until they were fairly 
upon him. For aught they knew he had been a spec- 
tator of the proceedings from the outset. What would 
he think of them ? Kod Graham and Dick Wilding, 
slaves to a guilty conscience, slunk into the rear of 
their party, while Bert, and Frank, and Teter, glad 
of the unexpected relief, wiped their brows and ar- 
ranged their disordered clothing, as they awaited the 
doctor’s utterance. It soon came. 

I desire an explanation of this unseemly disturb- 
ance. The school will follow me immediately into 
the schoolroom,” said he, somewhat sternly; and 
turning upon his heel went back to his desk, the boys 
following at a respectful distance. 

When all had been seated, and the room was quiet. 
Dr. Johnston asked : 

Will the leaders in the proceedings outside come 
to my desk ? ” 

There was a moment’s pause, and then Teter rose 
from his seat, Bert immediately imitating him, and 
the two walked slowly down to the open space before 
the master’s desk. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


223 


Having waited a minute, and no one else appearing, 
the doctor leaned forward and said to his nephew : 

You and Lloyd were on the same side, were you 
not ? ” 

Yes, sir,” replied Teter. 

Well, who were the leaders of the other side? I 
wish to know.” 

Graham and Wilding, sir,” answered Teter. 

Graham and Wilding, come forward,” called the 
doctor, sternly ; and the two boys, looking very con- 
scious and shamefaced, reluctantly left their seats and 
took their places before the throne. 

Now, then, I wish to be informed of the whole 
matter,” said the doctor. 

Bert looked at Teter, and Teter looked at Bert. 

^^You tell him,” he whispered; ^^you know most 
about it.” 

Thereupon, with the utmost frankness, Bert pro- 
ceeded to tell his story, beginning at his first talk with 
Ernest Linton. 

The doctor listened intently, his inscrutable face 
revealing nothing as to how the story impressed him. 
When Bert had finished, he turned to Graham and 
Wilding, and asked them : 

Is Lloyd’s statement correct ? or have you any- 
thing to add ? ” 

They hung their heads, and were silent. 

The doctor looked very hard at them for a moment, 
during which the silence was so intense that the fall 


224 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


of a pin upon the floor would have been heard ; then, 
turning to the school, he spoke as follows : 

The events that have j ust transpired have hastened 
a decision that has been forming in my mind for some 
time past. I was not unaware of this practice of which 
Lloyd has just spoken, but deemed it well not to inter- 
fere until my interference should seem necessary. That 
time, in my judgment, has arrived, and I have deter- 
mined that there shall be no more of this hoisting. Be 
it, therefore, distinctly understood by the pupils of this 
school, that any future attempts at the hoisting of 
new boys will incur punishment, and possibly even 
expulsion from the school. You will now resume 
work.” 

A subdued murmur of applause arose from the anti- 
hoisting party at the conclusion of the doctor’s an- 
nouncement. They had more than carried their point ; 
for, intending only to protect Paul Linton, they h^d 
obtained the complete abolition of the practice. Bert 
was greatly elated, and could talk of nothing else when 
he got home. Father, and mother, and sister, had to 
listsn to the fullest details of the struggle and its sur- 
prising issue, and Bert fairly outdid himself in the. 
vigor and minuteness of his description. When the 
fountain of his eloquence at last ran dry, Mr. Lloyd 
had a chance to say, with one of his expressive 
smiles : 

And so my boy has come out as a reformer. 
Well, Bert dear, you have taken the first step in the 




BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 225 

most thankless and trying of all careers, and yet I 
would not discourage you for the world. I would 
a thousand times rather have you a reformer than an 
opposer of reforms. I wonder what work God has in 
store for you.” 


P 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 


PKIZE WINNING AND LOSING. 

HERE were many ways in which the methods 



J- employed at Dr. Johnston’s school were unique. 
The system of registering attendance, proficiency, 
and conduct has been already fully explained. It 
was hardly possible that this could have been more 
perfect. Xo boy could be absent without being 
missed, and an explanation or excuse of a thoroughly 
satisfactory nature was required the next day. No 
mistake could occur as to the standing of the pupils 
in the different classes. The record of each day was 
all comprehensive. It constituted a photograph, so to 
speak, of each pupil’s doings, in so far as they related 
to his school, and the doctor was exceedingly proud of 
the journals, which he kept with scrupulous care and 
neatness. 

Another feature of the school, peculiar to itself, was 
the system by which a knowledge of arithmetic was 
fostered, and the faculty of using it quickly was de- 
veloped. The whole of one morning each week was 
devoted to this. The scholars were grouped in classes 
according to their varying proficiency, care being 
taken to give each one a fair chance by associating 
him with those who were about as far advanced as him- 


226 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


227 


self. These classes were then arranged upon seats 
very much after the fashion of a Sunday-school, save 
that instead of a teacher being in their centre, they 
were placed around a backless chair, in such a manner 
that it was equally convenient of access to all. Each 
boy had his slate and pencil in readiness. 

The school having been called to order, the doctor 
then proceeded to read out to the senior class a 
problem in proportion or compound interest, or what- 
ever it might be, and this they hurriedly scribbled 
down on their slates. If they did not understand it 
fully at first, he would read it again, but of 
course never gave any explanations. So soon as a 
scholar had clearly grasped the problem to be solved, 
he set to work at its solution with all his might, and 
it was a most interesting spectacle to watch when the 
whole class, with heads bent close to the slates, made 
their squeaking, scratching pencils fly over them. 
Every possible shade of mental condition, from con- 
fident knowledge to foreboding bewilderment, would 
be expressed in their faces. The instant one of them 
had completed his work, he banged his slate down 
upon the backless chair, with the writing turned 
under. The others followed as best they could, and 
all the slates being down, they awaited the doctor’s 
coming around to their class again. 

When Dr. Johnston had completed the round of 
the classes, and given each a problem, he would, after 
a pause, call upon each in turn to read the answers as 


228 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


set down upon the slate. The boy whose slate was 
first on the chair, and therefore at the bottom of the 
pile, would read his answer first. If it were correct, 
he scored a point, and none of the others were called 
upon. If incorrect, the next to him would read his 
answer, and so on until a correct answer was given, 
and a point scored by somebody. Only one point 
could be made each round, and so the unsuccessful 
ones had to console themselves with the hope of hav- 
ing better luck next time. Not more than four or 
five rounds would be had each day, and it rarely 
happened that the same boy would be successful in all 
of them. Three points were considered a very good 
day’s work, and if a boy made four points he was 
apt to feel that the prize in that class was ' as good as 
his, until some other boy made four points also, and 
thereby lessened his chances. 

It did not always happen that being first down with 
his slate assured the scholar of scoring a point. A 
slight mistake in his addition, subtraction, or division 
might have thrown him off the track, and then num- 
ber two, or maybe number three, would come in with 
a correct answer and triumphantly score the point, 
success being all the sweeter, because of being some- 
what unexpected. 

Now this kind of competition suited Bert thor- 
oughly. He was as quick as any of his companions, 
cooler than many of them, and had by this time ac- 
quired a very good understanding of the chief prin- 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


229 


ciples of arithmetic. He greatly enjoyed the working 
against time, which was the distinctive feature of the 
contest. It brought out his mental powers to their 
utmost, and he looked forward to arithmetic day 
with an eagerness tliat was not caused entirely by 
what his father had promised him in the event of his 
being successful in carrying off a prize. 

In the same class with him were Frank Bowser, 
Ernest Linton, and a half dozen other boys of simi- 
lar age and standing in the school. He had no fear 
of Frank or Ernest. They were no match for him 
either as to knowledge, or rapidity of work ; but there 
w^as -a boy in the class who seemed fully his equal in 
both respects. This was Levi Cohen, a dark-skinned 
black-haired chap, whose Jewish features were in en- 
tire harmony with his Jewish name. He was indeed 
a Jew, and, young though he was, had all the depth, 
self-control, and steadfastness of purpose of that 
strange race. He also had, as the sequel will show, 
their indifference as to the rightness of the means 
employed so long as the end in view was gained. 

The school had been in session for more than a 
month, and those who were particularly interested in 
the arithmetic competitions were already calculating 
their chances of success. In Bert’s class it was clear 
beyond a doubt that the contest lay between him and 
Levi Cohen. It rarely happened that they did not 
monopolize the points between them, and so far, they 
had divided them pretty evenly. One day Bert would 


230 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


score three and Levi two, and then the next week Levi 
would have three, and Bert two, and so it went on 
from week to week. 

As the second month drew to a close, Bert began 
to gain upon his rival. He nearly always made the 
majority of the points, and was now at least six ahead. 
Then suddenly the tide turned and Levi seemed to 
have it all his own way. The quickness with which 
he got the answers was bewildering. Nay, more, it 
was even suspicious. One familiar with the details of 
the problems given, and the amount of work a full 
working out would require, could not help being 
struck by the. fict that Cohen seemed to arrive at his 
answer after a remarkably small expenditure of slate 
pencil. Time and again he would have his slate down 
at least half a minute before Bert did his, although pre- 
vious to this sudden change in his fortunes, the differ- 
ence in time between them had been rarely more than a 
few seconds. Then again it was noticeable that he took 
the utmost care that none of the others should see 
what was on his slate. He did his work in a corner, 
hunched up over it so that it was well-concealed, and 
he snatched his slate away from the pile at the very 
first opportunity. 

Bert noticed all these things, and they perplexed 
him quite as much as Cohen’s rapid gain alarmed him. 
He soon became convinced that there was something: 
wrong, that Cohen was doing crooked work ; but, 
puzzle his brains as he might, he could not get at the 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


231 


bottom of the mystery. Frank and Ernest fully 
shared his suspicions, and they had many a talk over 
the matter. Frank thought that Cohen must have 
the answers written on a piece of paper which 
he managed to peep at somehow while all the other 
boys were absorbed in working out the problems ; but 
although he on several occasions purposely refrained 
from doing anything himself in order to watch Cohen 
the more closely, he failed to find the slightest ground 
for his suspicions in that direction. Then Bert put 
forward his theory. 

ril tell what it is, Frank : Cohen must learn the 
answers off by heart, and then he sets them down 
without working out the whole sum.” 

Shouldn’t wonder a bit,” said Frank. He’s 
got a great memory, I know, and we always can tell 
from what part of the arithmetic Dr. Johnston is 
going to get the sums.” 

‘^But how can we make sure of it, Frank?” in- 
quired Bert, anxiously. 

“ The only way is to get hold of his slate, and see 
how he works his sums out,” replied Frank. 

Yes ; but he takes precious good care not to let 
anybody see how he does them.” 

So he does ; but we’ve got to find out some way, 
and Fm going to do it, so sure as my name’s Frank 
Bowser.” 

How’ll you manage it, Frank?” asked Bert, 
brightening up ; for he really was a good deal trou- 


232 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


bled over Cohen's continued success, particularly as 
he felt so strongly that there was something wrong at 
the bottom of it. 

I don't know yet, Bert ; but I'll find out a w^ay 
somehow. See if you can't think of a plan yourself." 

^^I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll ask father about 
it," said Bert, in a tone that implied perfect confidence 
in Mr. Lloyd's ability to furnish a solution for any 
difficulty. 

Accordingly, that evening, Bert laid the whole case 
before his father, who listened with judicial gravity, 
and then proceeded to ask a question or two : 

You feel quite sure that Cohen does not take the 
time to work out the suras properly ? " 

“ Yes, father ; perfectly sure." 

“ Then why don't you inform Dr. Johnston of your 
suspicions, and he will make an examination into the 
matter ? " 

“ Oh, father ! " exclaimed Bert, with a look of pro- 
found surprise. You w'ouldn't have me turn tattle- 
tale, would you ? " 

No, Bert dear; indeed, I would not, although you 
should lose a dozen prizes. I said that simply to see 
what you would think of it, and I am glad you 
answered me as I expected you would. But, Bert, 
you have asked my advice in this matter. Did you 
think of asking somebody else who is infinitely wiser 
than I am ? " 

Bert understood his father at once. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 233 

No, father ; I did not. I never thought of it,” 
he answered, frankly. 

Then had you not better do so when you are say- 
ing your prayers to-night ? ” 

‘‘ I will, father. Fm so glad you reminded me.” 
And with that Bert dropped the subject for the time. 

That night, ere he went to bed, Bert laid the mat- 
ter before his Father in heaven, just as he had done 
before his father upon earth. He had imbibed his 
ideas of prayer from what he heard from his own 
father at family worship. Mr. Lloyd’s conception of 
prayer was that it could not be too simple, too 
straightforward. It often seemed as though God 
were present in the room, and he was talking with 
him, so natural, so sincere, so direct were his petitions. 
And Bert had learned to pray in the same manner. 
A listener might at times be tempted to smile at the 
frankness, the naivete of Bert’s requests; but they 
were uttered not more in boyish earnest than in truest 
reverence by the petitioner, and there was no fear of 
their being misunderstood by him to whom they were 
offered. 

The next morning, when Bert came down to the 
breakfast room, he was evidently in the best of spirits. 

“It’s all right, father,” said he. “I asked God to 
show me what’s the best thing to do, and I’m sure he 
will.” 

“ That’s it, Bert ; that’s the way to look at it,” 
replied Mr. Lloyd, with a smile of warm approval. 


234 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


On reaching the school Bert found Frank awaiting 
him. 

I’ve got it ! I’ve got it ! ” he shouted, so soon 
as Bert appeared. I know how Levi manages it 
now.” 

• “ How is it ? ” asked Bert, eagerly. 

Why, he learns all the answers off by heart, and 
then doesn’t work out the sums at all, but just pre- 
tends to, and slaps down the answer before the rest of 
us fellows are half through,” explained Frank. 

To be sure, Frank ; you know I thought of that 
before. But how are we going to stop him?” 

That’s just what I’m coming to. When the time 
comes to read the answers I’m going to take up the 
slates, just as if mine was down first; and then, if 
Levi’s been playing sharp on us. I’ll expose him.” 

What a brick you are ! ” exclaimed Bert, adrnir- 
ingly, patting Frank on the back. That’s a grand 
plan of yours, and I do believe it’s the way God is 
going to answer my prayer.” 

Answer your prayer, Bert ? Why, what do you 
mean ? ” inquired Frank. 

‘ Why, you know, Frank, last night when I was 
saying my prayers, I told God all about it, and now 
I, believe he’s going’to make it all right. You just 
see if he doesn’t.” 

Frank was evidently very much struck with the 
idea of his being chosen by God to answer Bert’s 
prayer. It was quite a new thought, and made a 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


235 


deep impression upon him. He was a clear and 
strong, if not very rapid, reasoner, and his reasoning 
in this case led him to the conclusion that if God 
thought that much of him he certainly ought to think 
more of God. He did not talk about it to any one, 
but for many days his mind was occupied with 
thoughts of this nature, and their direct result was to 
lead him nearer to the kingdom. 

At the very first opportunity Frank put his plan 
into execution. Arithmetic day came round, the class 
gathered in its place, the first sum was read out to 
them, and before Bert was half through working it 
out, Levi Cohen placed his slate softly upon the chair, 
and leaned back in his seat with a sly smile lurking in 
the corners of his mouth. Frank glanced up from his 
work, gave Bert a meaning look, and then dropped 
his slate upon Cohen’s with a loud bang. The others 
followed more slowly, and presently the time came for 
the answers to be read. 

Before Cohen could leave his corner, Frank rose up, 
seized the pile of slates, turned them over, and exam- 
ined the first intently, while Bert watched him with 
breathless expectancy, and Cohen, at first too surprised 
to act, sprang forward to wrest it from his hands. But 
Frank moved out of his reach, and at the same time, 
with a triumphant smile, exhibited the face of the slate 
to the rest of the class, saying, in a loud whisper : 

Look, boys, that’s the way he works them out.” 

Dr. Johnston noticed the slight commotion this ere- 


236 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD, 


ated, but he was too far away to see clearly what it 
meant, so he called out : 

Why does not class six read their answers ? 

Cohen stood up, and held up his hand. 

Well, Cohen, what is it?^^ asked the doctor. 

‘^Please, sir. Bowser has taken my slate, and won’t 
give it to me,” answered Cohen, in’ a whining voice. 

Bowser, what’s the meaning of this ? What are 
you doing with Cohen’s slate? ” demanded the doctor, 
frowning darkly. 

Frank did not look a bit frightened, but still hold- 
ing on to the slate, which Cohen was making ineffec- 
tual efforts to regain, replied, in respectful tones : 

May I hand you the slate first, sir ? ” 

At these words Cohen turned ashy pale, and Dr. 
Johnston, realizing that tliere must be something going 
on that required explanation, ordered Frank to bring 
all the slates up to him. 

With radiant face Frank proceeded to obey, giving 
Bert a triumphant look as he passed by him, while 
Cohen shrank back into his corner, and bit his nails as 
though he would devour his finger tips, Taking up 
Cohen’s slate, the doctor scrutinized it carefully. One 
glance was sufficient. A deep flush spread over his 
dark face, his eyes lighted up threateningly, and in his 
sternest tones he called out : 

Cohen, come here ! ” 

Amid the expectant hush of the school, none but 
class six knowing what was the matter, Cohen, looking 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


237 


as though he would give his right hand to be able to 
sink through the floor, walked slowly up into the 
dreadful presence of the angered master. Holding up 
the slate before him, Dr. Johnston asked : 

Is this your slate, sir ? ” 

Cohen gave it a cowering glance, and said, faintly : 

“Yes, sir.’’ 

“ How long has this been going on ? ” thundered 
the doctor. 

Cohen made no reply. 

“ Answer me, sir, at once. How long has this been 
going on ? ” repeated the doctor. 

“ I don’t quite know, sir ; but not very long,” fal- 
tered out Cohen. 

With an exclamation of disgust. Dr. Johnston turned 
from him, and holding the slate up high so that all the 
school might see it, relieved the curiosity of the schol- 
ars, now at fever pitch, by addressing them thus : 

“Cohen has just been detected in one of the most 
contemptible tricks that has come under my observa- 
tion since I have been master of this school. He has 
evidently been committing to memory the answers to 
the problems that would be given out, and instead of 
doing the work properly has been scratching down a 
few figures, then writing the answers, and so finishing 
long before any of the other scholars. I need hardly 
say that this is not only a most contemptible trick, as I 
have already said, but a serious blow at the principles 
of fair p’ay and justice which should regulate the 


238 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


winning of prizes in this school. I therefore feel 
bound to express my indignation at Cohen’s offense 
in the most decided manner.” 

Turning to Cohen : You, sir, shall stand upon the 
floor for punishment. All the points scored by you 
already this term will be taken from you, and you will 
not be permitted to compete for any prize until I shall 
so determine.” 

A kind of subdued whistle rose from the boys when 
they heard the doctor’s severe, and yet not too severe, 
sentence. Cohen was no favorite with them ; and yet 
they could not help some pity for him, as thoroughly 
cowed and crushed he stood before them all, the very 
picture of misery. Bert’s tender heart was so touched 
by his abject appearance, that he half-relented at his 
exposure. But Frank was troubled by no such second 
thoughts. The unexpectedly complete success of his 
scheme filled him with delight. It had accomplished 
two objects, both of which gave him keen pleasure. 
Bert’s most dangerous rival for the prize had been put 
out of the way, and Cohen, whom he cordially dis- 
liked, had been well punished for his knavery. 

With Cohen disqualified, Bert had a comparatively 
easy time of it for the rest of the term. He usually 
managed to secure four out of the five points obtain- 
able, and steadily added to his score until at last there 
was no chance of any one beating him, and he could 
look forward with comfortable confidence to the prize 
that meant so much in his case. A few days before 


BEET LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


239 


Christmas the results were declared, and the prizes 
awarded, and although Bert gained only the one upon 
which his heart had been set, while other boys carried 
off two, and even three, he envied none of them. Their 
prizes meant nothing more perhaps than the brightly- 
bound books which the doctor selected with special 
reference to boyish preferences. But his prize meant 
more than a book. It meant a pony. And so if he 
was the happiest boy in all the land of Acadia it was 
not without good reason. Frank was hardly less jubi- 
lant, for he had gained his prize, and there was a hope 
taking strong hold upon his heart that if fortune was 
kind to him, there might be a pony for him as well as 
for Bert. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A CHAPTER ON PONIES. 

I T was a proud day for Bert when he came home from 
school, bearing a handsome volume of Captain 
Gordon Cumming’s Adventures in Africa, and he felt 
as though he could scarcely wait for his father’s return 
from the office, so eager was he to show him his prize. 
As it was, he watched impatiently for him, and so 
soon as he came in sight rushed toward him, holding 
the book above his head, and shouting : 

IVe won it. I’ve won the prize.” 

The Lloyds were all quite as proud as Bert himself 
over his success, and they made a very merry quar- 
tette as they sat around the dinner table that evening. 

Dear me ! I suppose I’ll have to keep my prom- 
ise now, though it takes my last cent to pay for it,” 
said Mr. Lloyd with a pretense of looking rueful. 

Indeed you will, father. I’m not going to let you 
off, of that you may be sure,” exclaimed Bert, glee- 
fully, knowing very well that his father was only in 
fun, and that it would take the cost of a good many 
ponies to reach his last cent. 

Well, then, sir, since you insist upon it, may I ven- 
ture to inquire what sort of a pony you would like.” 
Oh, I don’t know, father.” 

240 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


241 


“ I suppose you’re not very particular, Bert, so long 
as he’ll let you stay on his back,” said Mr. Lloyd, 
smiling. 

That’s about it, father,” assented Bert. 

‘‘ Be sure and get a nice, quiet pony that won’t run 
away with Bert, or give him a nasty kick some time,” 
interposed Mrs. Lloyd, with an anxious look, as she 
contemplated the possibility of some accident happen- 
ing to her darliug. 

Never fear, mother. I’ll make sure of that,” an- 
swered Mr. Lloyd, with a reassuring smile. And 
for that very reason,” he continued, addressing him- 
self to Bert, I may be some time in finding one just 
to suit. So you must be patient, my little man, and 
be willing to vvait, so that when your pony does come, 
lie may be a good one.” 

As it turned out, Bert had to wait several months, 
and the chill winter had given way to the warm sun- 
shine of spring, and the boy’s patience had almost 
given way altogether, when at last his father, on com- 
ing home one evening, announced, to his immense joy, 
that after much searching he had secured a pony that 
thoroughly suited him, and that this equine treasure 
would be brought to the house the pext morning early. 

If Bert was too much excited to sleep for more than 
half an hour at a time that night, who cannot sympa- 
thize with him ? And if, when he did fall into a 
troubled doze, he had nightmare, visions which soon 
woke him up again, who would dare laugh at him? 

Q 


242 BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 

Ill all his young life he had never been in such a 
fever of expectation, and long before dawn he was 
wide awake, with no hope of again closing his eyes, 
and tossed and tumbled about until it was light 
enough to get up and dress himself. 

As soon as he had dressed he went down to the 
barn to assure himself for the twentieth time that the 
little stall was in perfect readiness ; tliat there was no 
lack of oats in the bin or hay in the loft ; that the 
brai^-new halter was hanging in its place, waiting to 
be clasped upon the head of the coming pony, and 
thus he managed to while away the time until the 
breakfast bell rang. 

The pony was to arrive shortly after breakfast, and, 
hungry as he was, Bert could scarcely be persuaded 
to taste his porridge, toast, or coffee, and he made 
the others laugh by jumping up to run to the door at 
the slightest suspicion of a sound in the street. At 
length, just when he had settled down again after one 
of these excursions, the door bell rang vigorously. 
Bert rushed through the hall, opened the door, and 
immediately there was a glad shout of “Hurrah! 
Here he is! Isfft he a beauty which brought the 
whole family to the door, and there they beheld the 
overjoyed boy with his arms clasped tightly round 
the neck of a brown pony that seemed to quite appre- 
ciate this little demonstration, while the groom looked 
on with a superior smile at Bert’s enthusiasm. 

The pony was indeed a beauty. He was of a rich 



Bert Lloyd’s Boyhood 


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BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


243 


brown color, without a white spot upon him, just high 
enough for Bert to see comfortably over his back, and 
as round and plump as the best master could wish. 
His head w’as small and perfectly shaped, his neck 
beautifully arched, and he had large brown eyes that 
looked out upon the world with an intelligence almost 
human. He had the highest testimonials as to sound- 
ness of wind and limb, and sweetness of temper, and 
was altogether just the very kind of a pony to make 
a boy happy. 

And yet all of his good points have not been re- 
counted. He had a list of accomplishments quite as 
long as his list of virtues, for at some previous stage 
of his life he had, on account of his beauty and great 
docility, been put in training for the circus; and 
although for some reason or other he had never gotten 
so far as to make his appearance in the saw-dust 
arena, he had been taught a great many tricks, and 
these he was generally willing to perform, provided 
an apple or lump of sugar were held out as a reward. 

All this the groom explained while they were 
standing at the door, and then the pony, having been 
sufficiently introduced, was led around to the yard, 
and duly installed in his corner of the stable, Bert 
clinging as close to him as if he feared he had wings 
like the fabled Pegasus, and might fly away if not 
carefully watched. 

The days that followed were days of unalloyed 
happiness to Bert. He, of course, had to learn to 


244 


BEKT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


ride Brownie/’ as the pony was christened by Mary, 
to whom was referred the question of a name. But 
it was an easy matter learning to ride so gentle and 
graceful a creature. First at a walk, then at a trot, 
then at a canter, and finally at full gallop, Bert ere 
long made the circuit of the neighboring squares ; and 
as he became more thoroughly at home he extended 
his rides to the Point, where there were long stretches 
of tree-shaded road that seemed just intended for 
being ridden over. 

The best of it was that, as Bert prophesied, the wish 
being in his case father to the thought, Mr. Bowser 
did follow Mr. Lloyd’s example. 

I reckon I can stand a pony for my boy about as 
well as Lawyer Lloyd can for his,” said he to himself, 
j)ressing his hand upon a fat wallet in his pocket, after 
Frank had been earnestly petitioning him, without 
eliciting any favorable response. “ There’s no point 
in Frank’s going on foot while Bert’s on horseback. 
I must see about it.” 

He gave poor disappointed Frank, however, no hint 
of what he had in mind ; and then one day he made 
him fairly wild with delight, by sending home a 
pretty bay pony with a star in his forehead, which, 
although he was not quite as handsome or accom- 
plished as Brownie,” was an excellent little animal, 
nevertheless. Oh, what proud happy boys the two 
friends were, the first day they rode out together ! It 
was a lovely afternoon, not too warm to make it hard 


BERT Li^OYD’s boyhood. 


245 


upon the ponies, and they rode right around the point, 
and along the road skirUug the arm of the sea, going 
much farther than Bert had ever been before ; now 
pattering along the smocth dry road at a rattling 
pace, and now jogging on quietly with the reius 
hanging loosely on “the p >nies' necks. If Bert’s 
pony knew the more tricks, Fviink’s showed the greater 
speed, so they both had some hi ng to be especially 
proud of, and were content accoidingly. 

Brownie’s performances were very amusing indeed, 
and after he and his young maste?: hud become thor- 
oughly acquainted, he would go through^hem when- 
ever called upon to do so. Often when the Lloyds 
had guests, they would entertain them by having Bert 
put Brownie through his programme. Then the cute 
little fellow would be at his best, for he evidently en- 
joyed an appreciative audience quite as much as they 
did his feats. He would begin bv making a verv re- 
spectful bow to the spectators, lifting his pretty head 
as high as he could and bringing it down until his 
nose touched his breast. He would then, as com- 
manded, ^‘say his prayers,” which he did by kneeling 
with his fore feet, and dropping his head upon his 
knees ; knock at the door,” which meant going up 
to the nearest door, and knocking at it with his hoof 
until some one opened it ; walk like a gentleman ” — 
that is, rear up on his hind legs, and walk up and 
down the. yard; ^^go to sleep,” by lying down and shut- 
ting his big brown eyes tight ; shake hands by grace- 


246 


BERT LEOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


fully extending his right hoof; allow a cap to be 
placed on his head and theo sidi^ up and down the 
yard in the most roguish way ; and other little tricks 
no less amusing, which nevf-r failed to elicit rounds of 
applause from the delighte- 1 spectators. 

There were many ways io wiiich Brownie endeared 
himself to every member ot the Lloyd family. If 
Mrs. Lloyd or Mary l;appened to come into the yard 
when, as often happctied, he was roaming about loose, 
he would go up to them and rub his nose gently 
against their slu>uider, thus saying as plainly as could 
be, Haven’t you got a crust for me ? ” and the mo- 
ment Mr. Lloyd showed himself. Brownie’s nose 
would De suufiing at his coat pockets for the bit of 
apple or lump of sugar that rarely failed to be there. 
As for his bearing toward Bert, it showed such affec- 
tion, obedience, and intelligence that it is not to be 
wondered at if the boy sometimes asked himself if the 

Houyhnhnms” of Gulliver’s Travels had not their 
counterpart in nature, after all. 

Great, then, was the concern and sorrow when, after 
he had been just a year with them. Brownie fell sick, 
and the veterinary surgeon said that he must be sent 
away to the country to see if that would make him 
well again. Bert sobbed bitterly when the little in- 
valid was led away. He would have dearly loved 
to accompany Brownie, but that could not be managed, 
so there was nothing for it but to wait patiently at 
home for the news from the sick pony. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 247 

Uuliappily, the reports were not cheering. Each 
time they were less hopeful, and at last one dull rainy 
day that Bert was long in forgetting, the farmer came 
himself to say that despite his utmost care dear little 
Brownie had died, and was now buried beneath a 
willow tree in a corner of the pasture. Poor Bert ! 
This was the first great grief of his life. Had 
Brownie been a human companion, he cculd hardly 
have felt his loss more keenly or sorrowed more sin- 
cerely. The little empty stall, the brass-mounted 
bridle, and steel-stirruped saddle hanging up beside 
it, brought out his tears afresh every time he looked 
upon them. Frank did his best to console him by 
offering him the use of his pony whenever he liked ; 
but, ah ! though Charlie” was a nice enough pony, 
he could not fill the blank made by Brownie’s loss. 

In the mean time Mr. Lloyd had been making dili- 
gent inquiry about a successor to Brownie, and had 
come to the conclusion to await the annual shipment 
from Sable Island, and see if a suitable pony could 
not be picked out from the number. The announce- 
ment of this did much to arouse Bert from his low 
spirits, and as Mr. Lloyd told him about those Sable 
Island ponies he grew more and more interested. 
They certainly have a curious history. To begin 
with, nobody knows just how they got on that strange, 
wild, desolate, sand bank that rises from the ocean 
about a hundred miles to the east of Nova Scotia. 
Had they the power of speech, and were they asked 


248 


BEET LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


to give an account of themselves, they would proba- 
bly reply with Topsy that “ they didn’t know — they 
’spects they grow'd.” There they are, however, to the 
number of several hundred, and there they have been 
ever since anybody knew anything about Sable Island. 
And sucli a place for ponies to be ! It is nothing but 
a bank of sand, not twenty-five miles long, by about 
one and a half wide, covered here and there with 
patches of dense coarse grass, wild pea vine, and cran- 
berry swamps. There are no trees, no brooks, no 
daisied meadows, and through all seasons of the year 
the ponies are out exposed to the weather, whether it 
be the furious snow storms of winter, the burning 
heat of summer, or the mad gales of the autumn. 

Once a year the government officials who live upon 
the island, having charge of the lighthouses and 
relief stations, for it is a terrible place for wrecks, 
have what the AYestern ranchmen would call a “round- 
up” of the ponies. They are all driven into a big 
“ corral ” at one end of the island, and the best of the 
younger ones carefully culled out, the rest being set 
free again. Those selected are then at the first oppor- 
tunity put on board a sliip and carried off to Halifax, 
where rough, shaggy, ungroomed, and untamed, they 
are sold at auction to the highest bidders. 

It was one of these ponies that Mr. Lloyd proposed 
to purchase for Bert. The latter was an expert rider 
now, and could be entrusted with a much more 
spirited animal than dear little Brownie. The arrival 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


249 


of the annual shipment was accordingly looked forward 
to-bj^ both Bert and his father with a good deal of 
interest, Bert wondering if on the whole shipload 
there would be anything to compare with Brownie, 
and Mr. Lloyd hoping that he would be able to obtain 
a pony big enough to carry him if he felt in the 
humor for a ride on a bright summer morning. 


CHAPTER XXy. 


ABOUT TWO KINDS OF PONIES. 

I N due time the Sable Island ponies arrived, and 
were announced to be sold by auction, at the 
Government Wharf. Taking Bert with him, Mr. 
Lloyd went down in time to have a good look at the 
shipment before the sale commenced, so that he might 
have his mind made up before beginning to bid. They 
certainly were a queer lot of little creatures. Not a 
curry-comb had touched their hides since they were 
born, nor had the shears ever been near their manes 
or tails. Their coats were long, thick, and filled 
with dirt ; their manes and tails of prodigious length, 
and matted together in inextricable knots. They were 
of all colors, and within certain limits of all sizes. 
Brown, bay, black, piebald, gray, and sorrel. There 
was no lack of variety ; and Mr. Lloyd and Bert 
wandered up and down the long line as they stood 
tethered to the wall, scrutinizing them closely, and 
sorely puzzled as to which to decide upon. 

It was, of course, quite impossible to tell anything 
as to disposition, for all the ponies seemed equally 
wild and terrified at their novel situation ; but, after 
going over them carefully, Mr. Lloyd decided upon a 
very promising-looking black pony that stood near 
250 


BEET Lloyd's boyhood. 


251 


the middle of the row. He was of a good size, 
seemed to be in better condition than many of those 
around him, had a well-shaped head, and altogether 
presented about as attractive an appearance as any in 
the lot. 

There were numerous bidders at the auction, and 
Bert grew deeply interested in the selling, as pony 
after pony was put up, and after a more or less spirited 
contest, according to his looks, was knocked down to the 
person that bid the highest for him. By the time the 
pony his father had selected was reached, he was fairly 
trembling with excitement. He was full of appre- 
liension, lest somebody else should take him away 
from them, and when the bidding began, he watched 
every movement and word of the auctioneer with 
breathless anxiety, raising quite a laugh at one time, 
by answering his oft-repeated question ^^Will any- 
body give me five? I have thirty — will anybody 
give me five ? ” with an eager “ I will ! that was 
easily heard by everybody in the crowd. It was an 
immense relief to him, when, at length, after what 
seemed to him most unnecessary persistence in trying 
to get more, the auctioneer called out Going, going, 
going, at thirty-five dollars. Will you give me any 
more? Going at thirty-five — going, going, gone; 
and sold to Mr. Lloyd.” 

Thirty-five dollars does not seem very much to give 
for a pony ; but considering that this pony had every- 
thing to learn, and nobody to guarantee his good 


252 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


behavior, it was a fair enough price for him. The 
getting him home proved to be quite a serious under- 
taking. The strange sights and sounds of the city 
streets did not merely frighten him — they positively 
crazed him for the time ; and it took two strong men, 
one on either side of his head, to guide him in safety 
to the stable. Once securely fastened in the stall, he 
quieted down in time, but not one bite of food would 
he touch that day, nor the next, although Bert tried to 
tempt him with everything of which Brownie had 
been fond. This troubled Bert very much. He 
began to fear his new pony would starve to death. 
But his father reassured him. 

Don’t be alarmed, my boy. The pony wdll find 
his appetite all right so soon as he gets used to his 
new quarters,” said Mr. Lloyd. 

And sure enough on the third morning, Bert, to his 
great relief, found the oat box licked clean, and the 
pony looking round wistfully for something more to 
eat. After that, the difficulty lay rather in satisfying 
than in tempting his appetite. He proved an insa- 
tiable eater. But then nobody thought of stinting 
him, especially as his bones were none too well 
covered. 

It was with great difficulty that he could be per- 
suaded to allow himself to be groomed. He would 
start at the touch of the curry-comb, as though it 
gave him an electric shock, and Michael, who com- 
bined in himself the offices of groom and gardener, 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


253 


declared that of all the pesky, fidgety critters that 
ever stood on four legs, he never did see the like of 
this ^ere Sable Islander/^ Michael’s opinion was not 
improved when he came to break the little Sable 
Islander in, for he led him such a dance day after 
day that his stout heart was well-nigh broken before 
the pony’s will showed any signs of being broken. 
However, patience and kindness, combined with firm- 
ness, eventually won the day; and Michael, with 
considerable pride announced that Sable,” as it had 
been decided to call him, was ready for use. 

Mr. Lloyd thought it best to ride Sable for a week 
or two before Bert should mount him, and to this 
arrangement Bert was nothing loath, for the pony’s 
actions while in process of being broken in had rather 
subdued his eagerness to trust himself upon him. As 
it chanced, Mr. Lloyd came very near paying a severe 
penalty for his thoughtfulness. He had been out sev- 
eral mornings on Sable, and had gotten along very well. 
One morning while he was in the act of mounting, 
the gate suddenly slammed behind him with a loud 
bang. The pony at once started olf at full gallop. 
Mr. Lloyd succeeded in throwing himself into the 
saddle, but could not get his feet into the stirrups, 
and when the frightened creature upon which he had 
so insecure a hold swerved sharply round at the end 
of the street, he was hurled from his seat like a stone 
from a catapult, and fell headlong, striking his right 
temple ujjon the hard ground. 


254 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


A few minutes later Mrs. Lloyd was startled by a 
hasty rap at the door, and on opening it beheld her 
husband supported between two men, his face ghastly 
pale, and stained with blood from a wound on his 
forehead. She was a brave woman, and although her 
heart almost stood still with agonized apprehension, 
she did not lose control of herself for an instant. 
Directing Mr. Lloyd to be carried into the parlor and 
laid gently upon the sofa, Mrs. Lloyd bathed his head 
and face while Mary chafed his hands ; and presently, 
to tlieir unspeakable joy, he recovered consciousness. 
Fortunately, his injuries proved to be comparatively 
slight. Beyond a cut on his forehead, a bad 
headache, and a general shaking up, he had sutfered 
no material injury, and he would not listen to Mrs. 
Lloyd’s finding any fault with Sable for the accident. 

“ Tut ! tut ! Kate,” said he ; “ the pony was not 
to blame at all. Any horse might have been fright- 
ened by a gate banging to at his heels. The fault 
was mine in not seeing that the gate was shut before I 
mounted. No ; no, you must not blame poor little 
Sable.” 

Curiously enough, Bert had a somewhat similar ex- 
perience shortly after he began to ride Sable. At a 
little distance from the house was a hill up which the 
street led, and then down the other side out into the 
country. The ascent was pretty steep, the descent not 
so much so, and Bert liked to walk his pony up to 
the top, and then canter down the other side. One 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


255 


afternoon, just as he reached the summit, a little imp 
of a street gamin, probably by way of expressing the 
envy he felt for those who could aiford to ride, threw 
a stone at Sable, which struck him a stinging blow on 
the hindquarters. Like an arrow from the bow, the 
pony was off. Taking the bit in his teeth, and 
straightening his head out, he went at full speed down 
the hill, Bert holding on for dear life with his heart 
in his mouth, and his hat from his he-ad. 

In some way or other, he himself never knew 
exactly how, he got both his feet out of the stirrups, 
and it was well for him he did, for just at the bottom 
of the hill, when he was going like a greyhound, 
Sable stopped short, lowered' his head, flung up his 
heels, and, without the slightest protest or delay, Bert 
went flying from the saddle, and landed in the middle 
of the dusty road in a sitting posture with his legs 
stretched out before him. The saucy pony paused 
just long enough to make sure that his rider was dis- 
posed of beyond a doubt, and then galloped away, 
apparently in high glee. 

Bert was not hurt in the least. He had never sat 
down quite so unexpectedly before, but the thick dust 
of the road made an excellent cushion, and he was 
soon upon his feet, and in full cry after the runaway. 
Thanks to a gentleman on horseback who had wit- 
nessed the whole scene, and went immediately in 
chase of Sable, the latter was soon recaptured, and 
Bert, having thanked his friend in need, and brushed 


256 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


some of the dust from his clothes, remounted his mis- 
chievous steed, and rode him for the rest of the after- 
noon. 

After those two somewhat unpromising perfor- 
mances, Sable settled down into very good habits, and 
during all the rest of the time that he was in Bert’s 
possession did not again disgrace himself by running 
away or pitching any one off his back. He never 
became the pet that Brownie had been, but he was, 
upon the whole, a more useful animal, so that Bert 
came to feel himself well compensated for his loss. 

About this time Bert made the acquaintance of a 
pony of a very different sort. How, indeed, it came to 
have this name does not seem to be very clear, for 
what natural connection can be established between a 
diminutive horse, and a discreditable method of re- 
ducing the difficulties of a lesson in Latin or Greek? 
It would appear to be a very unjust slur upon a very 
worthy little animal, to say the least. 

Bert’s first knowledge of the other kind of pony 
was when in the course of his study of Latin he came 
to read Sallust. Caesar he had found comparatively 
easy, and with no other aid than the grammar and 
lexicon he could, in the course of an hour or so, get 
out a fair translation of the passage to be mastered. 
But Sallust gave him no end of trouble. There was 
something in the involved obscure style of this old 
historian that puzzled him greatly, and he was con- 
stantly being humiliated by finding that when, after 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


257 


much labor, he had succeeded in making some sort of 
sense out of a sentence, Dr. Johnston would pronounce 
his translation altogether wrong, and proceed to read 
it in quite another way. 

As it happened, just when Bert was in the middle of 
those difficulties, Mr. Lloyd was called away from 
home on important business which entailed an absence 
for many weeks, and consequently Bert was deprived 
of his assistance, which was always so willingly 
given. 

He had been struggling with Sallust for some time, 
and was making but very unsatisfactory headway, when 
one day, chancing to express to Regie Selwyn his envy 
of the seeming ease with which the latter got along, 
Regie looked at him with a knowing smile, and asked : 

“Don’t you know how I get my translation so 
pat?” 

“No,” replied Bert; “tell me, won’t you?” 

“ Why, I use a pony, of course,” responded Regie. 

“A pony!” exclaimed Bert, in a tone of surprise. 
“ What do you mean?” 

“'Oh, come now,” said Regie, with an incredulous 
smile. “Do you mean to say that you don’t know 
what a pony is?” 

“ I do, really,” returned Bert. “ Please tell me, 
like a good fellow.” 

“ Come along home with me after school, and I’ll 
show you,” said Regie. 

“All right,” assented Bert; “I will.” 

R 


258 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Accordingly, tliat afternoon when school had been 
dismissed, Bert accompanied Regie home, and there 
the latter took him to his room, and produced a book 
which contained the whole of Sallust turned into clear 
simple English. 

“There,” said he, placing the volume in Bert’s 
hands; “ that’s what I mean by a pony.” 

Bert opened the book, glanced at a page or two, 
took in the character of its contents, and then, with a 
feeling as though he had touched a serpent, laid it 
down again, saying; 

“ But do you think it’s right to use this book in 
getting up your Sallust, Regie?” 

Regie laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Where’s the harm, my boy. If you can’t trans- 
late old Sallust by yourself, you can’t, that’s all, and 
you’ve got to wait for Dr. Johnston to do it for 
you. Now, mightn’t you just as well get it out of 
this book at once, and save all the trouble,” he argued, 
glibly. 

This was very fallacious reasoning, but somehow or 
other it impressed Bert as having a good deal of force 
in it. The simple truth was that he was willing to be 
convinced. But he did not feel quite satisfied yet. 

“Then, of course, you never look at it until yoit 
have done your best to get the lesson out without it?” 
he asked. 

“That depends. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I 
don’t,” answered Regie, in a tone that implied very 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


259 


plainly that the latter “sometimes’’ occurred much 
more frequently than the former. 

Bert took up the book again and fingered it thought- 
fully. 

“ Could I get one if I wanted to ? ” he asked, pres- 
ently. 

. “ Why, of coarse,” answered Regie. “ There are 
many more at Gossip’s where I got this, I guess.” 

Bert said no more; and the two boys soon began 
talking about something else. 

For some days thereafter Bert was in a very per- 
plexed state of mind. It seemed as though the 
stars in their courses” were fighting not against, but 
in favor of his getting a “pony” for himself. His 
father’s absence was indefinitely prolonged, the Sallust 
grew more and more difficult, and demanded so much 
time, that Bert’s chance of winning one of the prizes 
for general proficiency was seriously jeopardized. 

Instead of dismissing the subject from his mind 
altogether, he fell to reasoning about it, and then his 
danger really began, for the more he reasoned, the 
weaker his defenses grew. There seemed so much to 
be said in favor of the pony; and, after all, if he did 
not resort to it until he had done his best to work out 
the translation unaided, what would be the harm ? 

Clearly Bert was in a perilous position. Right and 
wrong were strongly contending for the victory, and 
much would depend upon the issue of the conflict. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


VICTORY WON FROM DEFEAT. 

B ert had reached an age and stage of develop- 
ment when the raising of a decided issue between 
right and wrong was a matter of vital consequence. 
Although he had little more than rounded out a dozen 
yeap of life, his natural bent of mind and the influ- 
endes^urrounding him had been such as to make him 
seem at least two years older when compared with his 
contemporaries. He thought much, and, considering 
his age, deeply. His parents had always admitted him 
into full fellowship with themselves, and he had thus 
acquired their way of thinking upon many subjects. 
Then his religious training had been more than ordi- 
narily thorough. The influences and inspiration of a 
Christian home had been supplemented and strength- 
ened by the teaching at Sunday-school of one who 
possessed a rare gift in the management of boys. Mr. 
Silver not only understood liis boys: he was in hearty 
and complete sympathy with them; and the truth came 
from him with peculiar force, as he met them Sunday 
after Sunday. 

Bert therefore would appear to have everything in 
his favor when set upon by the tempter, and it might 
seem strange that in this case he should dally so long 
260 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


261 


with the danger. But the fact is there were unusual 
elements in this temptation, such as have been already 
set forth, and Bert’s course of action from the time 
when he first saw the translation of Sallust in Begie 
Selwyn’s room, until when at length after days of in- 
decision, of halting between two opinions, of now 
listening to, and again spurning the suggestions of 
the tempter, he had a copy of the same book hidden 
away in his own room, was but another illustration 
of the familiar experience, that he who stops to argue 
with the tempter, has as good as lost his case. 

He tried hard to persuade himself that it was all 
right, and that it would be all right, but nevertheless 
it was with none too easy a conscience that he slipped 
into Gossip’s one afternoon, and timidly inquired for 
the Sallust translation. The clerk did not understand 
at first, and when he asked Bert to repeat his question 
a cold shiver went down the boy’s back, for he felt 
sure the man must liave divined his purpose in pro- 
curing the book. But, of course, it was only an un- 
necessary alarm, and soon with the volume under his 
arm, and breathing much more freely, he was hasten- 
ing homeward. 

At first he kept very faithfully to the programme 
he had laid down of not resorting to the pony ” 
until he had done his best without it. Then little by 
little he fell into the way of referring to it whenever 
lie was at a loss regarding a word, until at last he 
came to depend upon it altogether, and the fluent 


262 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


translations that won Dr. Johnston’s approbation clay 
after day were really notliing better than stolen 
matter. 

Yet all this time he was far from having peace of 
mind. That troublesome conscience of his acted as 
though it would never become reconciled to this 
method of studying the classics. On the contrary, it 
seemed to grow increasingly sensitive upon the point. 
Finally the matter was brought to a head in a very 
unsuspected manner. 

No mention has been made in these pages of one 
who occupied a very large place in Bert’s affection 
and admiration — namely, the Rev. Dr. Chrystal, the 
pastor of Calvary Church. Dr. Chrystal was a man 
of middle age and medium height, with a countenance 
so winning and manners so attractive, that Mr. Lloyd 
was wont to call him St. John, the beloved disciple, 
because his name was John, and everybody who knew 
him loved him. It was not merely by the elders of his 
congregation, who could fully appreciate the breadth 
and soundness of his scholarship, the richness of his 
rhetoric, and the warmth of his eloquence, but by 
the younger members also, who loved his sunny smile, 
and hearty laugh, that Dr. Chrystal was little short of 
worshiped. 

Bert had been his warm admirer ever since the time 
when on his pastoral visits he would take the little 
fellow up on his knee, and draw him out about 
his own amusements and ambitions, giving such in- 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 263 

terested attention to his childish prattle that Bert 
could not fail to feel he had in him a real friend. As 
he grew older, his liking for the minister deepened. 
He never had that foolish fear of the cloth which is 
so apt to be found in boys of his age. Dr. Chrystal 
was a frequent visitor at Bert’s home. Mr. Lloyd 
was one of the main supporters of his church, and 
the two men had much to consult about. Besides 
that, the preaclier loved to discuss the subjects of the 
day with the keen-witted, far-seeing lawyer, who 
helped him to many a telling point for the sermon 
in preparation. 

This, of course, was quite beyond Bert, but what he 
could and did fully appreciate was the skill and 
strength with which Dr. Chrystal, having laid aside 
his clerical coat, would handle a pair of sculls when 
he went out boating with them, in the fine summer 
evenings. 

“ I tell you what it is, Frank,’’ said he, enthusiastic- 
ally to his friend one day. ‘^There’s nothing soft 
about our minister. He can pull just as well as any 
man in the harbor. That’s the sort of minister I 
like. Don’t you?” 

One Sunday evening, after Bert had been using 
his pony ” some little time, — for although his father 
had returned, he had come so to depend upon it, that 
he continued to resort to it in secret — Dr. Chrystal 
preached a sermon of more than usual power from the 
text, Provide things honest in the sight of all men.” 


264 


BERT I.LOYD’s BOYHOOD. 


It was a frank, faithful address, in which he sought 
to speak the truth in tenderness, and yet with direct 
application to his hearers. If any among them were 
disbelievers in the doctrine that honesty is the best 
policy, and acted accordingly, they could hardly hope 
to dodge the arrows of argument and appeal shot forth 
from the pupit that evening. 

Bert was one of the first to be transfixed. When 
the text was announced he wriggled a bit, as though 
it pricked him somewhere ; but when, farther on. Dr. 
Chrystal spoke in plain terms of the dishonesty of 
false pretences, of claiming to be what you really are 
not, of seeking credit for what is not actually your 
own work, Bert’s head sank lower and lower, his 
cheeks burned with shame, and, feeling that the 
speaker must in some mysterious way have divined 
his guilty secret, and be preaching directly at him, 
he sank back in his seat, and wished with wild long- 
ing that he could run away from those flashing eyes 
that seemed to be looking right through him, and 
from the sound of that clear, strong voice, whose every 
tone went straight to his heart. 

But, of course, there was no escape, and he had to 
listen to the sermon to the end, although, had it been 
possible^ he would gladly have thrust his fingers in his 
cal’s that he might hear no more. He felt immensely 
relieved when the service was over, and he could go 
out into the cool, dark evening air. He was very 
silent as he walked .home with his parents, and so 


2G5 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood, 

soon as prayers were over went off to his room, saying 
that he was tired. 

For the next few days tliere was not a more miser- 
able boy in Halifax than Cuthbert Lloyd. He was 
a prey to contending feelings that gave him not one 
moment’s peace. His better nature said, Be manly, 
and confess.” The tempter whispered, Be wise, and 
keep it to yourself.” As for the cause of all this 
trouble, it lay untouched in the bottom drawer of his 
bureau. He could not bear to look at it, and he 
worked out his Sallust as best he could, causing Dr. 
Johnston much surprise by the unexpected mistakes 
he made in translating. He became so quiet and 
sober that his mother grew quite concerned, and asked 
him more than once if he felt ill, to which, with a 
pretense of a laugh, he replied : 

“ Not a bit of it. I’m all right.” 

But he wasn’t all right, by any means, as his father’s 
keen eyes soon discovered. Mr. Lloyd, like his wife, 
thought at first that Bert’s queer ways must be due to 
ill health ; but after watching him awhile he came 
to the conclusion that the boy’s trouble was mental, 
rather than physical, and he determined to take the 
first opportunity of probing the matter. The oppor- 
tunity soon came. Mrs. Lloyd and Mary were out 
for the evening, leaving Bert and his father at home. 
Bert was studying his lessons at the table, while his 
father sat in the arm chair neai’ by, reading the 
paper. Every now and then, as he bent over his 


266 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


books, Bert gave a deep sigh that seemed to well up 
from the very bottoui of his heart. Mr. Lloyd noted 
this, and presently, laying his paper down, said, pleas- 
antly : 

Bert dear, put your lessons aside for a few min- 
utes, and come over here. I want to have a talk 
with you.’’ 

Bert started and flushed slightly, but obeyed at 
once, drawing his chair close up beside his father’s. 
Laying his hand upon Bert’s knee, and looking him 
full in the face, Mr. Lloyd asked : 

Now, Bert, tell me what’s the matter with you. 
There’s something on your mind, I know; and it 
has not been your way to keep any secrets from 
me. Won’t you tell me what is troubling you ?” 

Bert fidgeted in his chair, the flush deepened in 
his face, his eyes dropped before his father’s searching 
gaze, and his hands worked nervously. At last, 
with an apparent effort, he replied, in a low tone: 

“ There’s nothing the matter with me, father.” 

Mr. Lloyd sighed, and looked troubled. 

Yes, there is, Bert. You know there is. Now, 
don’t conceal it from me, but speak right out. Re- 
member your motto, Bert : ‘ Quit you like men.’ ” 

Tlje working of Bert’s countenance showed clearly 
the struggle that was going on within, and there was 
silence for a moment, while Mr. Lloyd awaited his 
answer, praying earnestly the while that his boy 
might be helped to do the right. Then, suddenly, 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


267 


Bert sprang up, darted toward the door, and heeding 
not his father’s surprised exclamation of — ^^Bert, 
Bert, aren’t you going to answer me?” ran up the 
stairs to his own room. An instant more and he 
returned, bearing a volume which he placed in Mr. 
Lloyd’s hands; and then, throwing himself on the 
sofa, he buried his head in the cushions, and burst into 
a passion of tears. 

Bewildered by this unexpected action, Mr. Lloyd’s 
first impulse was to take his boy in his arms and try 
. to soothe him. Then he bethought himself of the 
book lying in his lap, and turned to it for an ex- 
planation of the mystery. It was an innocent- 
enough looking volume, and seemed at first glance to 
make matters no clearer, but as he held it in his hands 
there came back to him the recollection of his own 
schoolboy days, and like a flash the thing was plain 
to him. Bert had been using a pony,” and in some 
way had come to realize the extent of his wrong 
. doing. 

With feelings divided between sorrow that his boy 
should fall a victim to this temptation, and gladness 
that he should have the courage to confess it, Mr. 
Lloyd went over to the sofa, lifted Bert up gently, 
and placed him on the chair beside him. 

Come, now, Bert dear,” said he, in his tenderest 
.tones, don’t be afraid, but just tell me all about 
it.” 

In a voice much broken by sobs, Bert then told 


268 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


the whole story, beginning with the first conversation 
with Regie Selwyn, and leaving out nothing. His 
father listened intently, and it was clear the recital 
moved him deeply. When it ended, he silently lifted 
up his heart in praise to God that his darling boy 
had been delivered from so great a danger, and he 
determined that Dr. Chrystal should not fail to hear 
how elfective his faithful preaching had been. 

I need not tell you, Bert, how sad this makes my 
heart, but I will not add my reproaches to the re- 
morse you already feel,” said he, gravely. You have 
done very, very wrong, dear, and it is now your duty 
to make that wrong right again, so far as is in your 
power. What do you think yourself you ought to 
do?” 

“I must ask God to forgive me, father,” answered 
Bert, almost in a whisper. 

But is that all ? Is there no one else of whom 
you should ask forgiveness ? ” 

Yes, of you.” 

I have forgiven you already, Bert, for I know 
that you are sincerely sorry. But I think there is 
some one else still. Ought you not to ask Dr. John- 
ston’s forgiveness?” 

Why, father,” exclaimed Bert, looking up with 
an expression of surprise, “ Dr. Johnston does not 
know anything about it.” 

Ah, yes, Bert, true enough ; but remember that 
ever since you’ve been using the translation you’ve 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 269 

been getting credit from him for work you had not 
really done. Was that providing things honest in 
the sight of all men, do you think?” 

Bert flushed and looked down again. He was 
silent for a little while, and then said : 

But, father, I could never tell Dr. Johnston. 
He is so stern and severe.” 

Do von think God will ever fullv foro:ive von 

•' ►Or 

while you are concealing from Dr. Johnston what 
you ought in common honesty to tell him ?” 

This question evidently staggered him, and Mr. 
Lloyd, seeing what a struggle was going on within 
him, put his hand upon his shoulder, and said, with 
tender emphasis : 

Bemember, Bert : ^Quit you like men, be strong.’” 
For a moment longer Bert seemed irresolute. 
Then suddenly his countenance brightened, his fea- 
tures settled into an expression of firm determination, 
and rising to his feet, with hands clenched and eyes 
flasliing, he stood before his father, and almost shouted : 

^^Yes, father, I will; I’ll tell him. I don’t care 
what he does to me.” 

God bless you, my brave boy ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Lloyd, as, almost over-mastered by his emotions, he 
threw his arms around his neck, and hugged him to 
his heart, the big tears pouring down his happy face. 

Just at that moment the door opened, and Mrs. 
Lloyd and Mary entered. Great was their surprise 
at the scene they witnessed. But they soon under- 


270 


BERT T.LOYd’s BOYHOOD. 


Stood it all, and when the whole story was known to 
them they were no less thankful than Mr. Lloyd that 
Bert had come off conqueror in this sharp struggle 
with the enemy of souls. 

It was a hard task that lay before Bert, and he 
would have been something more than mortal if his 
resolution did not falter as he thought about it. But 
he strengthened himself by repeating the words Quit 
you like men, be strong,’^ laying much emphasis on 
the latter clause. His father thought it best for him 
to go very early the next morning, taking the book 
with him, and to seek an interview with Dr. Johnston 
before he went into the school. 

Accordingly, in the morning, with throbbing heart 
and feverish pulse, Bert knocked at the doctor’s private 
entrance. On asking for the master he was at once 
shown into the study, where the dread doctor was 
glancing over the morning paper before he took up 
the work of the day. 

Well, Lloyd, what brings you here so early?” he 
asked, in some surprise. 

With much difficulty, and in broken sentences, Bert 
explained the object of his visit, the doctor listening 
with an impassive countenance that gave no hint of 
how the story affected him. When he had ended. Dr. 
Johnston remained silent a moment as if lost in re- 
flection, then placing his hand upon the boy’s shoulder, 
and looking at him with an expression of deep ten- 
derness such as Bert had never seen in his countenance 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


271 


before, he said, in tones whose kindness there could be 
no mistaking ; 

You have done well, Lloyd, to tell me this. I 
honor you for your confession, and I feel confident 
that never so long as you are a pupil in this school 
will you fall into like wrong doing. You may tell 
your father what I have said. Good-morning.^^ And 
he turned away, perhaps to hide something that made 
his eyes moist. 

Feeling much as Christian must have felt when the 
burden broke from his back and rolled into the sep- 
ulchre gaping to receive it, Bert went to his seat in 
the schoolroom. The ordeal was over, and his penance 
complete. 

His frank penitence was destined to exert a far 
wider influence than he ever imagined, and that im- 
mediately. The volume he placed in Dr. Johnston’s 
hands set the master thinking. ^^If,” he reasoned, 
Bert Lloyd, one of the best boys in my school, has 
fallen into this wrong doing, it must be more common 
than I supposed. Perhaps were I to tell the school 
what Lloyd has just told me, it might do good. The 
experiment is worth trying, at all events.” 

Acting upon this thought. Dr. Johnston, shortly after 
the school had settled down for the day’s work, rapped 
upon his desk as a signal that he had something to say 
to the scholars, and then, when the attention of all 
had been secured, he proceeded to tell, in clear, concise 
language, the incident of the morning. Many eyes 


272 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


were turned upon Bert while the doctor was speaking, 
but he kept his fixed closely upon his desk, for he 
knew that his cheeks were burning, and he wondered 
what the other boys were thinking of him. In con- 
cluding, Dr. Johnston made the following appeal, 
which was indeed his chief purpose in mentioning the 
matter at all. 

^^Now, scholars.^’said he, in tones of mingled kind- 
liness and firmness, “ I feel very sure that Lloyd is 
not the only bov in this school wdio has been usings a 
translation to assist him in his classical work, and my 
object in telling you what he told me is that it may 
perhaps inspire those who have been doing as he did 
to confess it in the manly, honest way that he has done, 
and for which w^e must all honor him. Boys, I appeal 
to your honor/’ he continued, raising his voice until 
it rang through the room, startling his hearers by its 
unaccustomed volume. Who among you, like Bert 
Lloyd, will confess that you have been using a trans- 
lation?” 

There was a thrilling silence, during which one 
might almost have heard the boys’ hearts beat as the 
doctor paused, and with his piercing eyes glanced up 
and down the long rows of awe-stricken boys. For a 
moment no one moved. Then there was a stir, a 
sliuffling of feet, and Regie Selwyn, with cheeks aflame, 
rose slowly in his seat, and said, in a low but distinct 
voice : 

‘‘ I have, sir.” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


273 


A gleam of joy flashed in the doctor’s dark eyes as 
he looked toward the speaker, but he said nothing. 
Then another and another rose and made a like con- 
fession, until some six in all had thus acknowledged 
their fault. There was no mistaking the pleasure 
that shone in the master’s face at this answer to his 
appeal. When it became clear that, however many 
more might be no less guilty, no more were going to 
confess it, he spoke again : 

While it grieves me to know that the use of 
translations has been so extensive, I am also glad to 
find that so many of my boys possess the true spirit 
of manliness. I ask them to promise me that they 
will never look at those books again, and if there be 
others in the school who might have admitted the 
same impropriety, but have not, I appeal to you to 
show by your contempt of such helps your determi- 
nation that nothing but what is honest, fair, and manly 
shall characterize the actions of the scholars of this 
school.” 

And with this the doctor resumed his seat. 


s 


CHAPTER XXYII. 


ABOUT LITERATURE AND LAW. 

I YE years had passed since Cuthbert Lloyd’s 



J- name was first inscribed in the big register on 
Dr. Johnston’s desk, and he had been surely, steadily 
rising to the proud position of being the first boy in 
the school, the ^‘dux,” as the doctor with his love for 
the classics preferred to call it. 

And yet there were some branches of study that he 
still seemed unable to get a good hold upon, or make 
satisfactory progress with. One of these was algebra. 
For some reason or other, the hidden principles of 
this puzzling science eluded his grasp, as though a 
and X had been eels of phenomenal activity. He 
tried again and again to pierce the obscurity that 
enshrouded them, but at best with imperfect success; 
and it was a striking fact that he should, term after 
term, carry off the arithmetic prize by splendid scores, 
and yet be ingloriously beaten at algebra. 

Another subject that became a great bugbear to 
him was what was known as composition. On Fri- 
days the senior boys were required to bring an orig- 
inal composition, covering at least two pages of letter 
paper, upon any subject they saw fit. This require- 


274 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


275 


meiit made that day black Friday” for Bert and 
many others besides. The writing of a letter or com- 
position is probably the hardest task that can be set 
before a schoolboy. It was safe to say that in many 
cases a whipping would be gratefully preferred. But 
for the disgrace of the thing, Bert would certainly 
rather at any time have taken a mild whipping than 
sit down and write an essay. 

At the first, taking pity upon his evident helpless- 
ness, Mr. Lloyd gave him a good deal of assistance, 
or allowed Mary — the ever-willing and ever-helpful 
Mary — to do so. But after a while he thought Bert 
should run alone, and prohibited further aid. Thus 
thrown upon his own resources, the poor fellow strug- 
gled hard, to very little purpose. Even when his 
father gave him a lift to the extent of suggesting a 
good theme, he found it almost impossible to write 
anything about it. 

One Friday he went without having prepared a 
composition. He hoped that Dr. Johnston would 
just keep him in after school fora while, or give him 
an imposition ” of fifty lines of Virgil to copy as a 
penalty, and that that would be an end of the matter. 
But, as it turned out, the doctor thought otherwise. 
When Bert presented no composition he inquired if 
he had any excuse, meaning a note from his father 
asking that he be excused this time. Bert answered 
that he had not. 

‘‘Then,” said Dr. Johnston, sternly, “you must 


276 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


remain in after school until your composition is 
written.’^ 

Bert was a good deal troubled by this unexpected 
penalty, but there was of course no appeal from the 
master’s decision. The school hours passed, three 
o’clock came, and all the scholars save those who were 
kept in for various shortcomings went joyfully off to 
their play, leaving the big, bare, dreary room to the 
doctor and his prisoners. Then one by one, as they 
met the conditions of their sentence, or made up their 
deficiencies iu work, they slipped quietly away, and 
ere the old yellow-faced clock solemnly struck the 
hour of four, Bert was alone with the grim and silent 
master. 

He had not been idle during that hour. He had 
made more than one attempt to prepare some sort of 
a composition, but both ideas and words utterly failed 
him. He could not even think of a subject, much 
less cover two pages of letter paper with comments 
upon it. By four o’clock despair had settled down 
upon him, and he sat at his desk doing nothing, and 
waiting he hardly knew for what. 

Another hour passed, and still Bert had made no 
start, and still the doctor sat at his desk absorbed in his 
book and apparently quite oblivious of the boy before 
him. Six o’clock drew near, and with it the early 
dusk of an autumn evening. Bert was growing faint 
with hunger, and oh ! so weary of his confinement. 
Not until it was too dark to read any longer did Dr. 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


277 


Johnston move; and then, without noticing Bert, he 
went down tlie room, and disappeared through the 
door tliat led into his own apartments: 

My gracious ! exclaimed Bert, in alarm. ‘^Surely 
he is not going to leave me here all alone in the dark 
Bll jump out of the window if he does.^^ ^ 

But that was not the master’s idea, for shortly 
he returned with two candles, placed one on either 
side of Bert’s desk, then went to his desk, drew forth 
the long, black strap, whose cruel sting Bert had not 
felt for years, and standing in front of the quaking 
boy, looking the very type of unrelenting sternness, 
said : 

You shall not leave your seat until your composi- 
tion is finished, and if you have not made a beginning 
inside of five minutes you may expect punishment.” 

So saying, he strode ofi* into the darkness, and up 
and down the long room, now filled with strange 
shadows, swishing the strap against the desks as he 
passed to and fro. Bert’s feelings may be more easily 
imagined than described. Hungry, weary, frightened, 
he grasped his pen with trembling fingers, and bent 
over the paper. 

For the first minute or two not a word was written. 
Then, as if struck by some happy thought, he scrib- 
bled down a title quickly and paused. In a moment 
more he wrote again, and soon one whole paragraph 
was done. 

The five minutes having elapsed, the doctor emerged 


278 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


from the gloom and came up to see what progress had 
been made. He looked over Bert’s shoulder at the 
crooked lines that straggled over half the page, but 
he could not have read more than the title, when the 
shadows of the great empty room were startled by a 
peal of laughter that went eclioing through the dark- 
ness, and, clapping the boy graciously upon his back, 
the master said ; 

“ That will do, Lloyd. The title is quite sufficient. 
You may go now ; ” for he had a keen sense of humor 
and a thorough relish of a joke, and the subject 
selected by Bert was peculiarly appropriate, being 
“ Necessity is the Mother of Invention.” 

Mr. Lloyd was so delighted with Bert’s ingenuity 
that thenceforth he gave him very effective assistance 
in the preparation of his weekly essays, and they were 
no longer the bugbear that they had been. 

It was not long after this experience that Bert had 
an experience with the law not less memorable. 

In an adjoining street, there lived a family by the 
name of Dodson, that possessed a very large, old, and 
cross Newfoundland dog, which had, by its frequent 
exhibitions of ill-temper, became quite a nuisance to 
the neighborhood. They had often been spoken to 
about their dog’s readiness to snap at people, but had 
refused to chain him up, or send him away, because 
they had a lively aversion to small boys, and old Lion 
was certainly successful in causing them to give the 
Dodson premises a wide berth. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


279 


One afternoon Bert and Frank were going along 
the street playing catch with a ball the former had 
just purchased, when, as they passed the Dodson 
house, a wild throw from Frank sent the ball out of 
Bert’s reach, and it rolled under the gate of the yard. 
Not thinking of the irascible Lion in his haste to 
recover the ball, Bert opened the gate, and the 
moment he did so, with a fierce growl the huge dog 
sprang at him and fastened his teeth in his left cheek. 

Bert shrieked with fright and pain, and in an in- 
stant Frank was beside him, and had his strong hands 
tight around Lion’s throat. Immediately the old dog 
let Bert go, and slunk off to his kennel, while Frank, 
seizing his handkerchief pressed it to the ugly wound 
in Bert’s cheek. Great though the pain was, Bert 
quickly regained his self-possession, and hastening 
home had his wounds covered with plaster. Fortu- 
natelv, they were not in any wise serious. They bled 
a good deal, and they promised to spoil his beauty for 
a time at least, but, as there was no reason to suppose 
that the dog was mad, that was the worst of them. 

Mr. Lloyd was very much incensed when he saw 
Bert’s injuries, and heard from him and Frank the 
particulars of the affair. He determined to make one 
more appeal to the Dodsons to put the dog away, and 
if that were unsuccessful, to call upon the authorities 
to compel them to do so. 

Another person who was not less exercised about it 
was Michael, the man of all work. He was very fond 


280 


BERT LI.OYD’s BOYHOOD. 


and proud of the young master, as he called Bert, and 
that a dog should dare to put his teeth into him filled 
him with righteous wrath. Furthermore, like many 
of his class, he firmly believed in the superstition that 
unless the dog was killed at once, Bert would certainly 
go mad. Mr. Lloyd laughed at him good-humoredly 
when he earnestly advocated the summary execution 
of Lion, and refused to have anything to do with it. 
But the faithful affectionate fellow was not to be di- 
verted from his purpose, and accordingly the next 
night after the attack, he stealthily approached the 
Dobson yard from the rear, got close to old Lion's 
kennel, and then threw down before his very nose a 
juicy bit of beefsteak, in which a strong dose of poi- 
son had been cunningly concealed. The unsuspecting 
dog took the tempting bait, and the next morning lay 
stiff and stark in death, before his kennel door. 

When the Dobsons found their favorite dead, they 
were highly enraged ; and taking it for granted that 
either Mr. Lloyd or some one in his interest or his 
employ was guilty cf Lion’s untimely demise, Mr. 
Dobson, without waiting to institute inquiries, rushed 
off to the City Police Court, and lodged a complaint 
against the one who he conceived was the guilty 
party. 

Mr. Lloyd was not a little surprised when, later in 
the morning, a blue-coated and silver-buttoned police- 
man presented himself at his office, and, in the most 
respectful manner possible, served upon him a sum- 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


281 


mons to appear before tlie magistrate to answer 
to a complaint made by one Thomas Dobson, who 
alleged that he ‘Miad with malice prepense and afore- 
thought killed or caused to be killed a certain New- 
foundland dog, the same being the property of the 
said Thomas Dodson, and thereby caused damage to 
the complainant, to the amount of one hundred dol- 
lars.” 

So soon as Mr. Lloyd read the summons, which was 
the first intimation he had had of Lion’s taking off, 
he at once suspected who was the real criminal. But 
of course he said nothing to the policeman beyond 
assuring him that he would duly appear to answer to 
the summons. 

That evening he sent for Michael, and without any 
words of explanation placed the summons in his hand. 
The countenance of the honest fellow as he slowly 
read it through and took in its import was an amus- 
ing study. Bewilderment, surprise, indignation, and 
alarm were in turn expressed in his frank face, and 
when he had finished he stood before Mr. Lloyd 
speechless, but looking as though he wanted to say : 

What will you be after doing to me now, that I’ve 
got you into such a scrape?” 

Assuming a seriousness he did not really feel, Mr. 
Lloyd looked hard at Michael, as he asked : 

Do you know anything about this?” 

Michael reddened, and dropped his eyes to the 
ground, but answered, unhesitatingly : 


282 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


do, sir. It was meself that gave the old brute 
the dose of mediciue that fixed him.'^ 

“ But, Michael,’^ said Mr. Lloyd, with difficulty re- 
straining a smile, it was not right of you to take 
the law into your own hands in that way. You knew 
well enough that I could not approve of it.^’ 

I did, indeed, sir,’^ answered Michael, but,” lift- 
ing up his head as his warm Irish heart stirred within 
him,'‘^I couldn't sleep at night for thinking of what 
might happen to the young master if the dog weren't 
killed ; and, so unbeknownst to anybody, I just slipped 
over the fence, and dropped him a bit of steak that I 
knew he would take to kindly. I'm very sorry, sir, 
if I've got you into any trouble, but sure can't you 
just tell them that it was Michael that did the mis- 
chief, and then they won't bother you at all.'' 

No, no, Michael. I'm not going to do that. You 
meant for the best what you did, and you did it for 
the sake of my boy, so I will assume the respon- 
sibility; but I hope it will be a lesson to you not to 
take the law into your own hands again. You see it 
is apt to have awkward consequences.'' 

That's true, sir,'' assented Michael, looking much 
relieved at this conclusion. I'll promise to be care- 
ful next time, but — '' pausing a moment as he turned 
to leave the room — it's glad I am that that cross 
old brute can't have another chance at Master Bert, 
all the same.” And having uttered this note of tri- 
umph, he made a low bow and disappeared. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 283 

Mr. Lloyd had a good laugh after the door closed 
upon him. 

He’s a faithful creature,” he said, kindly ; but 
I’m afraid his fidelity is going to cost me something 
this time. However, I won’t make him unhappy by 
letting him know that.” 

The trial was fixed for the following Friday, and 
that day Bert was excused from sciiool in order to be 
present as a witness. His scars were healing rapidly, 
but still presented an ugly enough appearance to make 
it clear that worthy Michael’s indignation was not 
without cause. 

Now this was the first time that Bert had ever been 
inside a court room; and, although his father was a 
lawyer, the fact that he made a rule never to carry 
his business home with him had caused Bert to grow 
up in entire ignorance of the real nature of court 
proceedings. The only trials that had ever interested 
him being those in which the life or liberty of the 
person most deeply concerned was at stake, he had 
naturally formed the idea that all trials were of this 
nature, and consequently regarded with very lively 
sympathy the defendants in a couple of cases that had 
the precedence of Dodson vs. Lloyd.” 

Feeling quite sure that the unhappy individuals 
who were called upon to defend themselves were in a 
very evil plight, he was surprised and shocked at the 
callous levity of the lawyers, and even of the magis- 
trate, a small-sized man, to whom a full gray beard, 


284 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


a pair of gold-bowed spectacles, and a deep voice im- 
parted an air of dignity he would not otherwise have 
possessed. Tliat tliey should crack jokes with each 
other over such serious matters was something he 
could not understand, as with eyes and ears that 
missed nothing he observed all that went on around 
him. 

At length, after an hour or more of waiting, the 
case of ^‘Dodson vs. Lloyd” was called, and Bert, 
now to his deep concern, beheld his father in the 
same position as had been the persons whom he 
was just pitying; for the magistrate, looking, as Bert 
thought, very stern, called upon him to answer to 
the complaint of Thomas Dodson, who alleged, etc., 
etc., etc. 

Mr. Lloyd plead his own cause, and it was not a 
very heavy undertaking, for the simple reason that he 
made no defense bevond stating that the dog had 

v O O 

been poisoned by his servant without his knowledge 
or approval, and asking that Bert’s injuries might be 
taken into account in mitigation of damages. The 
magistrate accordingly asked Bert to go into the wit- 
ness box, and the clerk administered the oath, Bert 
kissing the greasy old Bible that had in its time been 
touched by many a perjured lip, with an unsophisti- 
cated fervor that brought out a smile upon the coun- 
tenances of the spectators. 

He was then asked to give his version of the affair. 
Naturally enough, he hesitated a little at first, but 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


285 


eDcouraged by his father’s smiles, he soon got over his 
nervousness, and told a very plain, straightforward 
story. Mr. Dodson’s lawyer, a short, thick man with 
a nose like a paroquet’s, bushy black whiskers, and a 
very obtrusive pair of spectacles, then proceeded, in a 
rough, hard voice, to try his best to draw Bert into 
admitting that he had been accustomed to tease the 
dog, and to throw stones at him. But although he 
asked a number of questions beginning with a “ Now, 
sir, did you not?” or, “Now, sir, can you deny that?” 
etc., uttered in very awe-inspiring tones, he did not 
succeed in shaking Bert’s testimony in the slightest 
degree, or in entrapping him into any disadvantageous 
admission. 

At first Bert was somewhat disconcerted by the 
blustering brow-beating manner of the lawyer, but 
after a few questions his spirits rose to the occasion, 
and he answered the questions in a prompt, frank, 
fearless fashion, that more than once evoked a round 
of applause from the lookers-on. He had nothing 
but the truth to tell and his cross-examiner ere long 
came to the conclusion that it was futile endeavoring 
to get him to tell anything else; and so, with rather 
bad grace, he gave it up, and said he might go. 

Before leaving the witness box Bert removed the 
bandages from his cheek, and exhibited the marks of 
the dog’s teeth to the magistrate, the sight of which, 
together with the boy’s testimony, made such an im- 
pression upon him that he gave as his decision that 


286 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


he would dismiss the case if Mr. Lloyd would pay 
the costs, which the latter very readily agreed to do ; 
and so the matter ended — not quite to the satisfaction 
of Mr. Dodson, but upon the whole in pretty close 
accordance with the strict principles of right and 
justice. 

Michael was very greatly relieved when he heard 
the result, for he had been worrying a good deal over 
what he feared Mr. Lloyd might suffer in consequence 
of his excess of zeal. 

‘^So they got nothing for their old dog, after all,’^ 
he exclaimed, in high glee. “ Well, they got as much 
as he was worth at all events, and,” — sinking his 
voice to a whisper, — between you and me. Master 
Bert, if another dog iver puts his teeth into you Fll 
be after givin’ him the same medicine so sure as my 
name’s Michael Flynn.” 


CHAPTER XXYIII. 

WELL DONE, BOYS ! 

rriHERE comes a time in the life of nearly every 
-L boy who attends Sunday-school when, no matter 
how faithful to it he may have been, he finds grad- 
ually stealing in upon him the feeling that he is grow- 
ing too old for it, and he becomes restive under its 
restraints. He sees other boys of the same age going 
off for a pleasant walk, or otherwise spending the 
afternoon as they please, and he envies them their 
freedom. He thinks himself already sufficiently 
familiar with Bible truth for all practical purposes, 
and the lessons lose their interest for him. He has 
perhaps no ambition for becoming a teacher, nor even 
of being promoted to a chair in the Bible class. 

How best to meet the case of this boy, and save 
him to the Sunday-school is one of tlie most difficult 
questions that present themselves to those engaged in 
that work. You must not scold him or you will infalli- 
bly drive him away at once and forever. Neither is 
it wise to seek to bring into play influences that will 
compel him to attend nolens, volens, for that will but 
deepen his dislike, and make him long the more 
eagerly for the time when he will be his own master 
in the matter. 


287 


288 


BEKT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


There seem to be but two possible solutions of the 
problem. You must either ' appeal to the boy’s 
natural sense of independence, and desire for import- 
ance by making some special provision for liim that 
will mark a distinction between him and the younger 
folk, or you must, by going far deeper, reach the 
spiritual side of his nature, and through it secure his 
fidelity to the school. 

To Bert this temptation had not presented itself. 
He no more thought of tiring of the Sunday-school 
than he did of his own home. He had attended 
regularly ever since his sister Mary would take him 
with her, and put him in the infant class, and it 
might be said to have become second nature with him. 

With Frank, however, it was different. He had 
never gone to Sunday-school until Bert invited him, 
and although for some years he was very fond of it, 
that fondness in time had fallen into an indifference, 
and of late he had a decided disinclination to go at all. 
This was not due so much to any resistance to the 
claims of religion itself, but rather to a foolish idea 
that he was now too old and too big for Sunday- 
school. 

Bert took his friend’s change of feeling very much 
to heart, and plead with him so earnestly, that for 
some time Frank continued in his place just to please 
him But this of course could not last, and he was 
in danger of drifting away altogether, when an event 
occurred which turned the current of his life and set 


BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 


289 


it flowing once more in the right direction, this time 
with a volume it had never known before. 

It was a pleasant custom at Calvary Church to give 
the Sunday-school a picnic every summer, and these 
picnics were most enjoyable affairs. A better place 
than Halifax Harbor for the holding of a picnic 
could hardly be conceived. You go, of course, by 
steamer, and then have the choice of some half dozen 
different routes, each having its own attractions. 
You might go right up to the head of the big basin 
that stretched away eight miles or more beyond the 
north end of the city, and there land, amid the 
meadows that are bordered by the unbroken forest, or 
you might stop half-way, and invade the old estate 
that had once been proud to claim a prince as its pos- 
sessor. 

Steering in the opposite direction, you might go 
around the Point, and piercing the recesses of the ever- 
beautiful arm of the sea, And a perfect picnic ground at 
its farthest bend ; or, crossing the harbor, there were 
lov-ely spots to be secured on the big, tree-clad island 
that well-nigh filled the harbor mouth. 

This year it had been decided to hold the picnic at 
the head of the arm. The time w'as August, just 
when the cool sea breeze, and the balmy breath of the 
pines are most grateful to the dwellers in cities. To 
the number of four hundred, or more, a happy crowd 
of Sunday-school scholars and teachers, and their 
friends gathered upon the broad deck of the clumsy 
T 


290 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


old ^‘Mic-mac/’ au excursion steamer that had done 
duty on this line for a generation, at least. Each 
class had its own banner, as a sort of rallying point, 
and these, with the pretty dresses and bright ribbons 
of the girls, imparted plenty of color to the scene, 
while the boys gave life to it by being incessantly on 
the move, and never in one spot for more than one 
minute at a time. 

Bert and Frank were in the midst of the merry 
crowd, and in the highest spirits. They were neither 
of them by any means indifferent to the fascination 
of feminine beauty and grace, and it was easy to 
secure the most delightful companionship on board 
the boat, which they did not fail to do. Then they 
had the games and sports to look forward to, after the 
picnic ground should be reached, and altogether 
their cup of happiness seemed well-nigh brimming 
over. They little dreamed how ere the day closed 
they would both be brought face to face with tlie 
deadliest peril of their lives. 

Joyous with music and laughter, the big boat pushed 
her way onward over the white-capped waves, past 
the fort and the gas works, and the long stretch of the 
Point road ; and then giving the point itself a wide 
berth, — for the shallows extend far out, — around it, 
and up the winding arm with its line of stately homes 
on one side, and scattered clusters of white-washed 
cottages on the other, until almost at its very end, the 
landing pla3e was reached, and the gay passengers 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 291 

gladly deserted the steamer to seek the cool shelter of 
the woods. 

There was a wonderful amount of happiness crowded 
into that day. All who wanted to be useful found 
plenty of scope for their talents in the transporting 
of the provisions, the arranging of the tables, the 
hanging of the swings, and the other work that had 
to be done, while those who preferred play to work, 
could go boating, or swimming, or play ball, and so 
forth. 

The two friends went in for both work and play. 
They gave very efficient help to the ladies in preparing 
for the dinner, but they did not miss a grand swim in 
the cool clear water of a sequestered cove, nor an ex- 
citing game of base ball in the open field. 

After dinner came the sports, consisting of compe- 
titions in running, jumping, and ball throwing, for 
which prizes in the shape of knives, balls, and bats 
were offered. Bert and Frank took part in several of 
them with satisfactory results, Frank winning a fine 
knife in the long distance race, and Bert a good ball 
for the best throw, so that there was nothing to mar 
their pleasure in this regard. 

By sunset all were making for the boat again, and 
in the soft summer gloaming the old “ Mic-Mac” 
steamed steadily down the arm on her homeward 
trip. Many of the children were weary now, and in- 
clined to be cross and sleepy. Others were still full 
of life and spirits, and could not be restrained from 


292 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


chasing one another up and down the deck and among 
the benches. But their merriment was ere long sud- 
denly ended by an event which came near casting a 
dark cloud over the whole day, that had hitherto been 
no less bright with happiness than with sunshine. 

Bert and Frank had joined a group of charming 
girls gathered at the stern of the steamer, and while 
pleasantly employed in making themselves agreeable 
were more than once disturbed by the noisy youngsters, 
who would persist in playing chase.” 

‘^Some of you will be falling overboard if you don’t 
take care,” said Bert, warningly, to them. Why 
don’t you keep in the middle of the steamer?” 

There was good ground for Berts warning, as, 
across the stern of the old steamer, which had been a 
ferry boat in her early days, there was only a broad 
wooden bar placed so high that a child might almost 
walk under it without stooping. 

But the careless children continued their play as the 
‘^Mic Mac” ploughed her way back to the city. Pres- 
ently a troop of them came racing down to the stern in 
chase of a golden-haired sprite, that laughingly ran be- 
fore them. She was closely pursued by a boy about her 
own age, and in her eagerness to escape him she dodged 
underneath the bar that marked the line of safety. 
As she did so, the steamer gave a sudden lurch ; and, 
poised perilouslv near the edge as the girl already 
was, it proved too much for her balance. She uttered 
a terrified shriek, grasped vainly at the bar now quite 




H M 5««Y96R 


Bert Lloyd’s Boyhood 


Page 293, 



BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


■293 


out of her reach, and, to the horror of those looking 
helplessly on, toppled over into the frothing, foaming 
water of the steamer’s wake. 

Instantly there was wild confusion on board the 
steamer. ' Scream after scream went up from the 
women, and all who could crowded madly toward 
the stern. If the girl was to be saved, immediate 
action was necessary. Bert did not stop to think. 
He could swim strongly and well. He would attempt 
her rescue. 

Frank, I’m after her,” he cried, as he flung off his 
coat and hat. 

I’m with you,” answered Frank, imitating his 
action ; and before any one else had thought of moving 
the two boys, almost side by side, sprang into the heav- 
ing water with faces set toward the spot where a 
cloud of white showed them the little girl still floated. 
Putting forth all their speed, they reached her ere the 
buoyancy had left her clothing, and each seizing an 
arm of the poor child, who had just fainted through 
excess of fright, they prepared to battle for her life and 
their own. 

They realized at once that it was to be no easy 
struggle. The steamer had been going at full speed, 
and although the engines were reversed at the first 
alarm, the impetus of her awkward bulk had carried 
her far away from the spot where the girl fell ; and 
now the boys could just barely discern her through 
the deepening dusk. The harbor had been rough all 


294 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

day, and the waters still rolled uneasily. Fortunately, 
it was not very cold, or the swimmers’ case had been 
well-nigh hopeless. As it was, the only chance of 
their deliverance hung upon their endurance. If their 
strength held out, they and the little one they had 
put themselves in peril to rescue would be saved. 

She continued to be unconscious, her pretty face, 
that was so bright and rosy a few minutes before, now 
looking strangely white and rigid, and her golden 
curls clinging darkly about her neck, her broad straw 
hat, all water-soaked and limp, hanging over on one 
side. 

Surely she can’t be dead already ? ” exclaimed 
Bert, anxiously, to Frank, as the two boys kept her 
and themselves afloat by treading water, one at either 
arm. 

No,” replied Frank, only fainted. But if the 
steamer doesn’t come soon, she will be ; and so will 
we too,” 

Never fear, Frank, the steamer will be back for 
us soon. I think I can hear her paddles now,” said 
Bert, in cheering tones ; and they listened intently for 
a moment, but heard nothing save the soft lapping of 
the waves all around them. Then Frank spoke : 

Bert,” he asked, “ are you afraid to die ? ” 

Bert started at the question. He had not thought 
of dying, and life was so precious to him. 

We’re not going to die, Frank. God will take 
care of us,” he answered, quickly. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


295 


Yes, but if the steamer shouldn’t get back to us 
in time, Bert,” persisted Frank, who seemed to be 
already losing hope, “ aren’t you afraid to die ? ” 

I don’t want to, but I’m not afraid to,” Bert 
replied, after a pause; for it was not easy to talk 
when every exertion had to be put forth to keep above 
the water. 

^^But, Bert, I am afraid,” said Frank, with a groan. 

I’ve been so wicked.” 

No, you haven’t, Frank ; and even if you have, 
God will forgive you now. Ask him right away.” 

Oh, I can’t — it’s too late ; I cannot pray now,” 
cried poor Frank, in a voice that sounded like a wail 
of despair. 

It’s not too late. Come, Frank dear, we’ll both 
pray to God to have mercy upon us,” urged Bert; 
and inspired by his earnestness, Frank obeyed. And 
there, in the midst of the waves, with their senseless 
burden between them, the two boys lifted up their 
souls in supplication to their Omnipotent Father — 
Bert with the confidence that came of past experience, 
Frank with the agonized entreaty of one praying in 
sore need, and, for the first time, with the whole 
heart. A strange place for a prayer meeting, indeed ; 
but they were as near the great heart of God as though 
they had been in his grandest cathedral, and the 
answer to their earnest pleading was already on its 
way. 

When the two young heroes leaped into the water, 


296 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


there had at first been great confusion on board the 
“ Mic-Mac/^ but a minute or two later the captain^s 
gruff voice was heard roaring out orders. The pad- 
dles that had been thrashing the waves so vigorously 
suddenly stopped, were silent for a moment, and then 
recommenced ; but now they were bearing the steamer 
backward, instead of forward. 

Get ready the boat for launching,’^ thundered the 
captain. And half a dozen men sprang to obey. 

Light a couple of lanterns,” he shouted again. 
And in an instant it was done. 

Reeve a long line round one of them life pre- 
servers, and stand ready for a throw,” he cried to the 
mate. And almost before he had finished speaking 
the mate stood ready. 

‘^Now, then, clear away there all of you,” he 
growled at the excited crowd that pressed toward the 
stem, and they fell back, allowing him clear space, 
while he swung the lantern out before him, and 
peered into the dusk that obscured his view. 

^‘Let her go easy now,” he shouted, and the 
steamer moved slowly on, a profound silence falling 
upon the crowd of passengers as they watched with 
throbbing eagerness for the first sign of the imperiled 
ones being sighted. 

Gazing hard into the gloom, the keen-eyed captain 
caught sight of a gleam of white upon the water. 

Stop her ! ” he roared, with a voice like that of the 
north wind. Hand me that life preserver ! ” — turn- 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


297 


ing to the mate who stood near him. The mate 
obeyed, and coiling the long rope ready for a throw 
the captain waited, while the steamer drew nearer to 
the speck of white. 

* Look out there ! he cried to the boys in the 
water. Lay hold of this.’^ And swinging the big 
life preserver around his head as though it had been a 
mere toy, he hurled it far out before him, where the 
beams of light from the lantern showed not one but 
three white objects scarce above the surface of the 
water. 

Look sharp now ! lay hold there he cried again, 
and then : ^^All right. Keep your grip, and wedl 
have you in a minute.’’ Then turning to those behind 
him : LoAver that boat — quick ! ” 

The davits creaked and groaned as the ropes spun 
through the blocks ; there was a big splash when the 
boat struck the water, a few fierce strokes of the oars, 
and then a glad shout of, ^^All right; we’ve got 
them,” in response to which cheer upon cheer rang out 
from the throng above, now relieved from their intense 
anxiety. 

A few minutes later three dripping forms were care- 
fully handed up the side, and taken into the Avarm 
engine room, the little girl still unconscious, and the 
boys so exhausted as to be not far from the same con- 
dition. 

Their rescue had been effected just in time. A 
little more, and utterly unable to keep themselves 


298 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

afloat any longer, they would have sunk beneath the 
pitiless waves. 

It seemed awful to have to die that way,” said 
Bert, when telling his parents about it. I was get- 
ting weaker and weaker all the time, and so, too, was 
Frank, and I thought we’d have to let the poor little 
girl go, and strike out for ourselves. But we kept 
praying hard to God to help us ; and then all of a 
sudden I saw a light, and I said to Frank, ^ There’s 
the steamer — hold on a little longer;’ and then I could 
hear the sound of the paddles, and the next thing 
the captain shouted to us and flung us a life preserver, 
and we got a good grip of that, and held on until the 
boat took us all in.” 

The heroic action of the two boys made them 
famous in Halifax. The newspapers printed columns 
in their praise, a handsome subscription was taken up 
in a day to present them each with a splendid gold 
medal commemorating the event; impoidant person- 
ages, who had never noticed them before, stopped them 
on the street to shake hands with them, and what 
really pleased them most of all. Dr. Johnston gave 
the school a holiday in their honor, having just deliv- 
ered an address, in which, with flashing eyes and 
quivering lips, he told the other scholars how proud 
he felt of Frank and Bert, and how he hoped their 
schoolmates would show the same noble courage if 
they ever had a like opportunity. 

The parents of the little one they rescued were 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


299 


plain people of limited means, but they could not 
deny themselves the luxury of manifesting their grati- 
tude in some tangible form. Accordingly, they had 
two pictures of their daughter prepared, and placed 
in pretty frames, bearing the expressive inscription, 
‘‘ Rescued,” with the date beneath ; and the mother 
herself took them to the boys, the tears that bathed 
her cheeks as she presented them telling far better 
than any words could do how fervent was her grati- 
tude. 

Deeply as Frank had been moved at being brought 
through his own generous impulse into such close 
quarters with death, the excitement and bustle of the 
days immediately following the event so filled his 
mind that the impression bade fair to pass away again, 
leaving him no better than he had been before. But 
it was not God’s purpose that this should be the 
result. Before the good effects of that brief prayer 
meeting in the water were entirely dissipated, another 
influence came to their support. Although he knew 
it not, he was approaching the great crisis of his life, 
and by a way most unexpected ; he was shortly to be 
led into that higher plane of existence, toward which 
he had been slowly tending through the years of his 
friendship with Bert. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 

A DAY or two after the rescue Bert began to show 
signs of what he took to be simply a slight 
cold in the chest. At first there was only a little 
pain, and a rather bothersome feeling of oppression, 
which did not give him much concern, and having 
applied to his mother, and had her prescribe for him, 
he assumed that it was the natural consequence of his 
sudden plunge into the cold water, and would soon 
pass away. But instead of doing so the pain and 
oppression increased, and the family doctor had to be 
called in for his opinion. Having examined the 
young patient carefully. Dr. Brown decided that he 
was threatened with an attack of inflammation of the 
lungs, and that the best thing for him to do was to go 
right to bed, and stay there until the danger was 
over. 

Here was a new experience for Bert. He had 
never spent a day in bed before, his only previous 
sickness having been a siege of the mumps, and they 
merely made him a prisoner in the house until his 
face regained its usual size. But now he was to really 
go upon the sick list, and submit to be treated accord- 
ingly until the doctor should pronounce him well 
300 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


301 


again. He did not like the idea at all. To what 
boy, indeed, would it have been* welcome in that 
glorious summer w^eather when there was bliss in 
merely being alive and well. But he had too much 
sense to rebel. He knew that Hr. Brown was no 
alarmist, and that the best thing to do was to obey 
liis injunctions uuquestioningly. Moreover, he now 
began to feel some slight anxiety himself. The 
trouble in his chest increased. So much so, indeed, 
that he found difficulty in speaking for any length of 
time. Symptoms of fever, too, appeared ; and by the 
close of another day no doubt remained that the 
attack was of a serious nature, and that the utmost 
care would be necessary in order to insure his 
recovery. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd learned this, they were 
sorely distressed. Such perfect health had their sturdy 
boy enjoyed all through his life hitherto, that they 
could hardly realize his being laid upon a bed of 
sickness, and it seemed especially trying just after he 
had passed safely through so great a peril. But they 
did not murmur. They committed Bert to the 
Divine care, and with countenances full of cheer for 
his sake, and hearts strengthened from above, awaited 
the revealing of the Lord’s will. 

Day by day Bert grew worse, until each breath 
became an effort ; and the fever burned all through 
his veins, as though it would consume him. Fortu- 
natelv, no cloud came over his consciousness ; and 


302 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


although he could not speak without a painful effort, 
and therefore said little, his grateful looks showed 
how fully he appreciated the unremitting care with 
which his father and mother and Mary watched over 
him. His bedside was never without one of them ; 
aud there was yet another who vied with them in 
their devotion — and that was Frank. Had Bert been 
his twin brother he could not have felt more concern. 
He was moved to the very depths of his heart, and 
with tears in his eyes begged of Mr. Lloyd permis- 
sion to take turns with them in watching by the bed- 
side through the long hours of the night. He was 
so affectionate, so thoughtful, so gentle, so trustworthy, 
and Bert seemed so glad to have him, that Mr. Lloyd 
willingly consented ; and thus the four whom Bert 
loved best shared the burden of care and anxiety 
between them. 

Bert had never made much parade of his religion. 
It was the controlling force in his life, yet it had not 
been in any way obtrusive. It had grown with his 
growth, and strengthened with his expanding strength ; 
aud although there had of course been many slips and 
falls — for what was he but an impulsive boy ? — there 
had been no decline, but steadfast progress as the 
years of his boyhood glided past. It stood him in 
good stead when death waited for him in the depths 
of Halifax harbor, and it was with him now, as hour 
by hour he drew nearer the dark valley of the 
shadow. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


303 


It seemed strange for the Lloyd’s home, which Bert 
and Mary had brightened with laughter and song, to 
be so silent now, and for big Dr. Brown, whose visits 
previously had been mainly of a social nature, to be 
calling every day, with a serious countenance that 
betokened his concern. Never were mother and sister 
more devoted and untiring than Bert’s. Their loving 
care anticipated his simplest wants ; and but for the 
dreadful feeling in his chest, and the fever that gave 
him no relief, the novelty of being thus assiduously 
tended was so great, that he would hardly have minded 
being their patient for a little while, at least. 

It was an unspeakable comfort to them all that his 
reason continued perfectly clear, no matter how high 
the fever raged ; and not only his reason, but his faith 
was clear also. He did not despair of his recovery, 
yet he shrank not from looking the darker alternative 
fairly in the face, and preparing to meet it. His 
father’s strong, serene faith was a wonderful help to 
him. In the quiet evening, as the dusk drew on, Mr. 
Lloyd would sit beside him, and taking his hot hand 
in his, talk with him tenderly, repeating Scriptui’e 
passages of hope and comfort, or verses from the 
sacred songs they both loved. 

One afternoon, Frank was alone with him, Mrs. 
Lloyd and Mary having gone off to take much needed 
rest, and Bert for the first time spoke to his friend of 
the possibility of his never getting well again. 

‘‘I am very ill, Frank dear,” said he, reaching 


304 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


over to lay his burning hand upon Frank’s knee, as 
the latter sat close beside his bed. I may never be 
anv better.” 

yes, you will!” returned Frank, cheerfully. 

You’ll come round all right.” 

hope so, Frank, but sometimes as I lie here in 
the middle of the night, it seems as though it would 
soon be all over with me.” 

Never fear, Bert, you’ll live to be an old man yet, 
see if you don’t.” 

Bert was silent for a while as if thinking just how 
he would say something that was on his mind. Then 
turning to Frank, and looking earnestly into his face, 
he asked : 

Frank, do you love Jesus ? ” 

Frank started at the question, the blood mounted 
to his forehead, and his head dropped. He seemed 
reluctant to reply, and it was some time before he 
answered, almost in a whisper ; 

I’m afraid I don’t, Bert.” 

A look of sorrow came over Bert’s countenance, but 
was quickly dissipated by one of hope, and despite the 
pain the utterance of every word gave him he took 
Frank’s hand between both of his, and pressing it 
affectionately, said : 

Dear, dear Frank, you will love him, won’t you?” 

Frank’s sturdy frame trembled with the emotion he 
strove hard to suppress ; his lips quivered so that he 
could not have spoken if he would, and at length. 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


305 


unable to control himself any longer, he fell on his 
knees at the bedside, and burying his face in his hands 
burst into tears. 

The ineffable glory of the sun setting into the 
golden haze of the west filled the room, and enfolded 
the figures of the two boys, the one kneeling at the 
bedside, and the other with eyes lifted heavenward, 
and lips moving in earnest prayer, touching softly the 
brown curls half buried in the bed beside him. For 
some minutes there was a solemn silence. Then Bert 
spoke : 

Frank, Frank,” he called, gently. 

Frank lifted his tear-stained face. 

Won’t you begin to love him now?” Bert asked. 

If God should take me away, I could not be happy 
unless I felt sure that you would meet me above. 
We’ve been such friends, Frank, and you’ve been so 
good to me always.” ' 

Frank’s tears flowed afresh. It was not the first 
time that the question of surrender to Christ had pre- 
sented itself to him. He had debated it with himself 
over and over again, .and always with the same result, 
concluding to remain undecided a little longer. But 
now the time for indecision seemed altogether passed. 
The Christ himself seemed present in that room 
awaiting an answer to the question he had inspired 
Bert to put. Never in all liis life before had the 
issue between God and himself appeared so inevitable. 
He had evaded it more than once, but a decision could 
u 


306 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


110 longer be delayed. No sooner did he see this 
clearly than the powers of the strong deep nature 
asserted itself. Brushing aside his tears, and looking 
right into Bert’s expectant eyes, he seized both his 
hands, and with a countenance almost glorified by the 
expression of lofty purpose the rays of the setting sun 
revealed upon it, said, in clear, firm tones : 

“Yes, Bert, I will love Jesus, and I will begin 
right away.” 

“Oh, Frank, I’m so happy !” murmured Bert, as he 
fell back on his pillow, for the stress of emotion had 
told hard upon him in his weak state, and he felt ex- 
hausted. He lay there quietly with his eyes closed 
for a while, and then sank into a gentle slumber, and 
before he awoke again Mrs. Lloyd had come into the 
room so that their conversation could not be resumed 
before Frank went away. 

The next day Bert was decidedly worse. The suf- 
fering in his chest increased until he could hardly 
speak. With great difficulty he could get out a word 
at a time, and that was all. The fever showed no 
signs of abating, and he tossed upon his bed hour 
after hour, while with ice and fan and cooling applica- 
tions Mrs. Lloyd and Mary strove hard to give him ease. 

Dr. Brown made no attempt to conceal his anxiety. 

“ The crisis is near at hand,” he said. “ There is 
nothing more that I can do for him. He has reached 
a point where your prayers can do more for him than 
my poor medicines.” 


BERT liLOYB^S BOYHOOD. 


307 


Although her heart was torn with anguish unspeaka- 
ble, Mrs. Lloyd^s fortitude never for a moment fal- 
tered. So serene was her bearing in the sick chamber 
that Mary, from whom the gravity of her brother’s 
case had been so far as possible concealed, had yet no 
thought but that he would infallibly win his way back 
to health. 

As he grew weaker and his sufferings more intense, 
Bert evidently felt easiest when all three of his own 
household were with him at once, and when Frank 
was there also, his satisfaction seemed complete. 
He spoke but little, and then only a word or two at a 
time. Dr. Chrystal came to see him frequently, and 
was always greeted with a glad smile of welcome. 
Taking the Bible, he would, in his rich mellow voice, 
read some comforting passage, and then pray with 
deep trustful earnestness, inspiring and strengthening 
the anxious watchers, and leaving behind him an 
atmosphere of peace. 

On Friday night the crisis came. After tossing 
and tumbling about feverishly all day, as the evening 
shadows fell, Bert sank into a deep stupor, and Dr. 
Brown, with a lump in his throat that almost choked 
his utterance, said plainly that unless he rallied before 
morning there would be no further hope. In an 
agony of prayer Mrs. Lloyd knelt by her darling’s 
bedside, while in an adjoining room Mr. Lloyd aud 
Mary and Dr. Chrystal and Frank sat together, 
praying and waiting, and striving to comfort one 


308 


BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


another. The long hours of agonizing uncertainty 
dragged slowly by. Every few minutes some one 
would steal on tip-toe to the sick chamber, and on 
their return meet fond faces full of eager questioning 
awaiting them, only to answer with a sad shake of the 
head that meant no ray of hope yet. 

At length the dawn began to flush the east, and 
with crimson radiance light up the great unmeasured 
dome, putting out the stars that had shone as watch 
fires throughout the night. Mrs. Lloyd had risen 
from her knees, and was sitting close beside the bed, 
watching every breath that Bert drew; for who could 
say which one would be the last? The daylight stole 
swiftly into the room, making the night light no 
longer necessary, and she moved softly to put it out. 
As she returned to her post, and stood for a moment 
gazing with an unutterable tenderness at the beloved 
face lying so still upon the pillow, a thrill of joy shot 
through her, for a change seemed to have taken place : 
the flushed features had assumed a more natural hue, 
and the breath came more easily. Scarcely daring to 
hope, she stood as if entranced. Presently a tremor 
ran through Bert’s frame, he stirred uneasily, sighed 
heavily, and then, as naturally as a babe awaking, 
opened wide his big brown eyes. 

Seeing his mother just before him, he gave a glad 
smile, lifted up his hands as though to embrace her, 
and said, without any apparent difliculty : 

“You dear, darling mother.” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


309 


Completely overcome with joy, Mrs. Lloyd threw 
herself down beside lier boy and kissed him passion- 
ately, exclaiming : Tiiank God ! Thank God ! He’s 
saved;” and then, springing up, hastened out to tell the 
others the good news. 

Dr. Brown, who had been resting in the study, was 
instantly summoned, and the moment he saw Bert his 
face became radiant. Turning to Mrs. Lloyd, he 
shook her hand warmly, saying : 

“ The worst is over. He’ll come round all right 
now, and you may thank your prayers, madam, and 
not my medicines.” 

Great was the rejoicing in the Lloyd household. 
No words would express their gladness; and when 
school-time came Frank, utterly unable to contain 
himself, rushed off to Dr. Johnston’s, and astonished 
the assembled pupils by shouting at the top of his 
voice : 

‘‘Hurrah, boys! Bert’s not going to die. He’ll 
soon be well again.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


HOME MISSIONARY WORK. 

B erths recovery was as rapid as his illness had 
been sudden and severe. A fortnight after that 
memorable morning, when with the dawn came de- 
liverance, he was as vigorous and lively as ever. He 
found the days of his convalescence not at all un- 
pleasant. When the pain had passed, the long hours 
of suffering seemed like a dreadful dream, and the 
present, with its sweet relief and increasing strength, 
a blissful awaking. At his home all was joy and 
brightness : there were silence and anxiety no longer. 
Mrs. Llovd and Marv went singing from room to 
room, Mr. Lloyd came back from his office whistling 
merrily, and sure to be ready with something to make 
Bert laugh. Frank ran in and out, the very type of 
joyous boyhood, and each day brought its stream of 
callers, with warm congratulations upon Bert’s happy 
restoration to health. 

It would be a queer boy that would not enjoy this, 
seeing that it all centered upon him, and Bert fully 
appreciated the important position he held for the time 
being. Then what could be more delightful than the 
sense of returning strength, of enlarging activity? — 
to find oneself with a clearer head, a sharper appetite, 
310 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


311 


and a more vigorous frame, as one glorious summer 
day succeeded another ; while the birds sang blithely 
in the apple tree, and the blue waters of the ever- 
beautiful harbor rippled gently before the morning 
zephyrs, or were stirred into white caps by the after- 
noon breeze? 

Bert’s illness left no trace behind so far as his 
physical nature was concerned, and yet he was not 
altogether the same boy as before it laid him low. 
Deep solemn thoughts had been his as he lay upon 
his bed, not knowing whether he should ever rise 
from it again. His life had been in many respects a 
more than ordinarily blameless one, and yet when he 
had little else to do save look back upon it, an almost 
overwhelming sense of his worthlessness came upon 
him, and he was filled with w'oiider that God could 
love him at all. 

But that he did love him, and for his Son’s sake 
had accepted him, he never for a moment doubted. 
Now that he was restored to health and strength, he 
did not seek to forget those feelings, nor would he 
allow his convictions of great obligations Godward to 
lead him nowhere. He resolved to do some definite 
work for his divine Master, and to seize the first oppor- 
tunity that presented itself. 

His friendship with Frank passed into a deeper, 
stronger phase than ever before. It might with much 
truth have been said of them as it was of two friends 
of old, that the soul of Bert was knit with the soul of 


312 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


Frank, and that Bert loved him as his own soul. 
They had so much in common now, and they found 
it so delightful to strengthen one another’s hands in 
the Lord by talking together of his goodness. 

There was one matter that troubled Frank deeply, 
and that formed the subject of many a long and 
earnest conversation. His father was a man about 
whose lack of religion there could be no doubt. He 
was a big, bluff, and rather coarse-grained man, not 
over-scrupulous in business, but upon the whole as 
honest and trustworthy as the bulk of humanity. By 
dint of sheer hard work and shrewdness he had risen 
to a position of wealth and importance, and, as self- 
made men are apt to do, laid much more stress upon 
what he owed to himself than upon what he owed to 
his Creator. In his own rough way, that is to say in 
somewhat the same fashion as we may suppose a lion 
loves his whelp, he loved the only cliild the wife long 
since dead had left him. He was determined that he 
should lack nothing that was worth having, and in 
nothing did Mr. Bowser show his shrewdness more 
clearly than in fully appreciating the advantage it was 
to Frank to be the chosen friend and constant com- 
panion of Lawyer Lloyd’s son. He had manifested his 
satisfaction at the intimacy by having Frank make 
Bert handsome presents at Christmas time, and in 
other ways. In all this, however, his only thought 
had been for Frank. He made no attempt to culti- 
vate intimate relations with the Lloyds on his own 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


313 


account. He thought them both too refined and too 
religious for him, and accordingly declined so far as 
he civilly coi\ld Mr. Lloyd’s overtures toward a better 
acquaintance. 

Such a man was Frank’s father ; and now that the 
boy’s heart was full of joy and ligiit, because the 
peace that passeth understanding was his, he longed 
that his father should share the same happy experi- 
ence. 

“ If father were only a Christian, like your father, 
Bert, I would be the happiest boy in all the world,” 
said he, one day. Oh. Bert, what can I do to make 
him interested in religion ? ” 

Why don’t you ask Dr. Chrystal to go and talk 
with him ? inquired Bert. 

It wouldn’t be a bit of use. He won’t go to 
church to hear Dr. Chrystal, nor any other minister, 
and he wouldn’t listen to them if they came to see 
him. He says he has no faith in parsons, anyway.” 

‘‘ Well, do you think he would listen to father ? ” 
suggested Bert. 

Frank’s face lighted up. He had been thinking of 
this himself 

Perhaps he would, Bert,” he said, eagerly. I 
know he thinks a great deal of your father. I’ve 
heard him say that he practiced better than many of 
the parsons preached.” 

Bert flushed with pleasure at this frank compli- 
ment to his father. 


314 


BERT LLOYD’S BOYHOOD. 


‘‘Then suppose we ask him to speak to your father 
about religion/’ he said. 

“ Oh, yes ; let us,” assented Frank. Accordingly, 
that evening^ the two bovs brought the matter before 
Mr. Lloyd, who listened to them very attentively. 
Then he asked a question or two. 

“ Are you quite sure, Frank, that I am the very 
best person to speak to your father on this important 
subject ? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Lloyd ; I’m quite sure you are.” 

“ Well, do you know, Frank, I don’t agree with 
you. I think I know of somebody that can do it 
much better than I can,” said Mr. Lloyd, with a mean- 
ing smile. 

Frank’s face fell. He had set his heart upon having 
Mr. Lloyd do it, and could not believe that anybody 
else would do as well. After a little pause, he asked : 

“ Who is this somebody else, Mr. Lloyd ? ” 

“ He’s not very far away from us now, Frank,” 
answered Mr. Lloyd, still with that curious smile. 

“You don’t mean Bert, do you?” cried Frank, 
looking a little bewildered. 

“ Ho ; I don’t mean Bert,” responded Mr. Lloyd. 

“ Then ” He stopped short, a deep blush 

spread over his features ; he caught his breath, and 
then, as if hoping that the answer would be in the 
negative, exclaimed : 

“ Do you mean me f ” 

“ Yes, I do mean just you ; and nobody else, Frank.” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


315 


Frank threw himself back in his chair with a 
despairing gesture, saying : 

Oh, I could never do it, Mr. Lloyd. I know I 
never could.” 

Mr. Lloyd looked at him with tender sympathy, 
and laying his hand upon his knee, said, gently : 

‘^Do you remember the motto, Frank. ‘Quit you 
like men, be strong ’ ? ” 

Frank heaved a heavy sigh. ^^But how can I go 
about it, Mr. Lloyd ? ” he asked. 

Mr. Lloyd thought a moment. 

I have an idea, Frank,” he said, presently. Sup- 
pose you were to start family prayer in the mornings. I 
believe it would be the means of doing your father good.” 

At first Frank could not be persuaded that such a 
thing was possible as his presuming to conduct family 
prayer in his father’s presence, but they talked long 
and earnestly about it, and finally he went away 
promising to think it over very seriously. 

As he turned the matter over in his mind, however, 
little by little his courage strengthened until at length 
he felt himself equal to the undertaking. It was a 
Sunday morning that he chose upon which to make 
the venture. So soon as breakfast was finished, and 
his father had moved away from the table, wishing 
to himself that there was a paper published on Sun- 
days as well as upon other days, for he had time to 
read it comfortably, Frank took up his Bible, and 
said, very hesitatingly : 


316 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Father, do you mind if we have family prayers?’’ 

‘^Eh! What’s that? What do you mean?” 
asked Mr. Bowser, looking up as if he could hardly 
believe his ears. 

Why, father,” answered Frank, timidly, ‘^you 
know they have prayers at Mr. Lloyd’s every morn- 
ing, and I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind our 
having them, too.” 

Mr. Bowser scanned his son’s face with a hard 
searching gaze, but Frank looked back at him with 
so much love and respect in his clear brown eyes, that 
all suspicion was banished from his mind, and his 
heart melted not a little. 

Who’s going to have the prayers? You don’t 
expect me to, do you ? ” he asked, gruffly. 

^‘Well, father, if you don’t care to. I’ll try, if 
you’ve no objection,” replied Frank, modestly. 

Mr. Bowser was silent for a moment. He had 
noted a change in Frank of late, and had been im- 
pressed by the increased interest he took in church 
and Sunday-school as proven by the regularity and 
punctuality of his going off to the services. Had 
Frank become a Christian like Mr. Lloyd? He 
would not be sorry if he had, although it was rather a 
pity that he had not waited until he had had his fling 
first, sowed a few wild oats, seen something of the 
world, and then settled down. Here was a good 
chance to find out. So with some relaxing of his 
gruffness, Mr. Bowser said ; 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


317 


^^All right, my boy. I’ve no objections so long as 
you’re not too long-winded. Go ahead.” 

Thus encouraged, Frank, with beating heart and 
trembling lips, proceeded to read one of the Psalms ; 
and then, kneeling down, offered up a simple, fervent, 
faith-filled prayer. 

Mr. Bowser did not kneel. He sat sturdily up- 
right in his chair, looking straight before him. But 
he could not prevent strange emotions awaking within 
him as he heard his boy, whom he was still inclined 
to look upon as hardly more than a child, though he 
was now sixteen years of age, address himself in rev- 
erent, earnest tones to the Great Being that he had so 
utterly neglected himself. 

AThen Frank had finished his father rose, and left 
the room without saying a word. That evening 
Frank took tea with Bert, and they went to church 
together. Shortly after the service began Bert hap- 
pened to glance about the church, and his eye fell 
upon somebody that caused him to give a little start 
of surprise, and then nudge Frank violently. On 
Frank’s turning round to see what Bert meant, he too 
started, and an expression of joy that was beautiful to 
witness came over his countenance, for there, in a pew 
not far behind him, and evidently trying hard to look 
entirely at his ease, sat Mr. Bowser, this being his first 
appearance in church for many long years. 

Dr. Chrystal preached one of his very best sermons 
that night, and all the time he was speaking Frank 


318 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


was praying that his earnest words might go straight 
home to his father’s heart. That was the beginning 
of the good work. Thenceforward every Sunday 
evening found Mr. Bowser an attentive listener ; and 
Frank, continuing the morning prayers faithfully, was 
surprised and delighted when one , day his father 
brought home the finest family Bible he could find in 
the city, and handing it to him, said, in his kindest 
manner ; 

^^Here, my boy, if we’re going to have family 
prayers, we may just as well do it in proper style.” 

Frank joyfully reported all this to the Lloyds, who 
rejoiced with him over the prospect there was of his 
prayers for his father being fully answered ere long, 
and Mr. Lloyd was therefore not at all surprised when 
one evening Mr. Bowser called, and in an agitated, 
confused way begged the favor of an interview with 
him in the privacy of his study. 

It was as Mr. Lloyd anticipated. Frank’s simple, 
but sincere efforts at home missionary work had been 
crowned with success. His father’s hard, worldly 
nature had been stirred to its depths. A longing the 
world could not appease had been awakened within 
him, and he had come to Mr. Lloyd as one in whom 
he placed implicit confidence, that he might guide 
him toward the light. The conversation, which Mr. 
Bowser found wonderfully helpful to him in his be- 
wildered, anxious state of mind, was followed by 
many others, and the result was made evident when, 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


319 


ere that year closed, Mr. Bowser publicly united 
himself with the church; and there were few who 
were familiar with the circumstances that could re- 
strain a tear of sympathetic joy when Dr. Chrystal 
made the event the occasion for a beautiful and in- 
spiring sermon upon the place of the young in the 
vineyard of the Lord. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


NOT DEAD, BUT TRANSLATED. 

M r. bowser was not a man to do anything by 
halves. When he was worldly, he was worldly 
out and out, and now that he had broken with the 
world and entered into the service of God, he took up 
the business of relio-ion with a thorousrh ness and ardor 
that was entirely characteristic. He found himself 
woefully ignorant of the simplest scripture truths. 
Until his conversion, he had not opened his Bible since 
he left his mother’s care. He therefore determined to 
become a scholar. So one Saturday, he asked Frank : 
Frank, what is it you do at Sunday-school ? ” 

“ Well, father, we sing, and pray, and study the 
Bible, that’s about all,” answered Frank, wondering 
to himself what his father had in mind. 

‘‘Do any grown-up people go there, Frank?” in- 
quired Mr. Bowser, innocently. 

Frank smiled, partly at his father’s lack of knowl- 
edge, and partly because he thought he caught a 
glimpse of his purpose. 

“ Why, of course, father,” he exclaimed, “ lots of 
them. Mr. Lloyd goes there, and Mr. Silver, and 
ten or twelve other gentlemen.” 

“Does Mr. Lloyd go to Sunday-school?” asked 
320 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


321 


Mr. Bowser, eagerly. “Why, what does he do 
there?’’ 

“ He teaches, father. He has charge of the men’s 
Bible class.” 

“So Mr. Lloyd has a Bible class there,” mused Mr. 
Bowser aloud; then, turning again to Frank, “Do 
you think, Frank, he would mind if I joined it.” 

Frank could not help smiling at the idea of Mr. 
Lloyd being otherwise than glad at having a new 
member in his class. 

“ Indeed, he won’t. On the contrary, he’ll be 
mighty glad, I’m sure,” he answered, warmly. 

“ Very well, then, Frank, I’ll go with you to Sun- 
day-school to-morrow. I don’t know anything about 
the Bible, and I think there’s no better place for me 
to learn,” said Mr. Bowser, as he went off leaving 
Frank so happy at the prospect of having his father 
go to school with him that he could hardly contain 
himself. 

Very deep was Mr. Lloyd’s pleasure when on Sun- 
day afternoon burly Mr. Bowser walked into his 
class room and took his seat in the most remote cor- 
ner. He went up to him at once, and gave him a 
cordial greeting. 

“ I’ve come as a learner, Mr. Lloyd,” said Mr. 
Bowser. “ I know little or nothing about the Bible, 
and I want you to teach me.” 

“ I am sure I shall be most happy to do anything 
that lies in my power, Mr. Bowser,” responded Mr. 

V 


322 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


Lloyd, heartily, “ and there are others in the class that 
you will find will help you also.” 

And so Mr. Bowser, putting aside all foolish notions 
about pride or self-importance, became one of the 
most faithful and attentive attendants of the Bible 
class. Bain or shine, the whole year round, his chair 
was rarely vacant, until Mr. Lloyd came to look upon 
him as his model member, and to feel somewhat lost, 
if for any reason he was compelled to be absent. 

But Mr. Lloyd was not his only guide and instructor. 
Dr. Chrystal had attracted him from the very first. 
The sermon he preached on that eventful Sunday 
evening, when, yielding to an impulse which seemed 
to him little better than curiosity, he had attended 
church for the first time in so many years, had been 
followed by others, each one of which met some need 
or answered some question springing up in Mr. Bow- 
ser’s heart, and his admiration and alfection for the 
eloquent preacher had increased with a steady growth. 

In truth Dr. Chrystal was a man of no common 
mould. He united in himself characteristics that might 
seem to have belonged to widely diiferent natures. He 
was deeply spiritual, yet intensely alive to the spirit of 
the times. He was as thoroughly conversant with 
modern thought as he was with the history of God’s 
ancient people. Although a profound student, he was 
anything but a Dr. Dry-as-Dust. On the contrary, 
the very children heard him gladly because he never 
forgot them in his sermons. There was always some- 


BEET LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


323 


thing for them as well as for the older folks. Indeed, 
perhaps one of the best proofs of his singular fitness for 
his work was the way the young people loved him. Boys 
like Bert and Frank, for instance, probably the hard- 
est class in the congregation for the minister to secure to 
himself, while they never for a moment felt tempted to 
take any liberties with him, yet, on the other hand, 
never felt ill at ease in * his presence, nor sought to 
avoid him. He made them feel at home with him, 
and the consequence was that the proportion of boys 
belonging to his church exceeded that of any other 
church in the city. 

Dr. Chrystal had of late been causing his friends no 
small concern by showing signs of failing health. 
His heart began to give him trouble. So much so, 
indeed, that now and then he would be obliged to 
pause in the midst of his sermon, and rest a little 
before resuming. His physician told him he had been 
working too hard, and that what he needed was to 
take things more easily, or, better still, to lay aside 
his work for a season, and recuperate by a good long 
vacation. 

At first he would not listen to any such proposition. 
There seemed so much to be done all around him that 
would be undoubtedly left undone unless he did it 
himself, that he felt as if he could not desert his post. 
But it soon became clear to him that the warnings he 
had received must be heeded, and ere long he was able 
to make up his mind to follow the physician’s advice. 


324 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


and indulge himself with an ocean voyage, and pro- 
longed vacation in Europe. 

As the time for his temporary separation from his 
congregation drew near there was a marked increase of 
fervor and loving earnestness on the part of Dr. 
Chrystal toward his people. It' was as though he 
thought he might perhaps never return to them, and 
it therefore behooved him mot only to preach with 
special unction, but to lose no opportunity of saying 
to each one with whom he came in contact something 
that might remain with them as a fruitful recollection 
in the event of its proving to be his last word to them. 
Meeting Bert upon the street one day, he linked his 
arm with his, and entered at once into a conversation 
regarding the boy’s spiritual interests. Bert felt per- 
fectly at home with his pastor, and did not hesitate to 
speak with him in the same spirit of frank unreserve 
that he would with his father. 

I have been thinking much about you, Bert,” said 
Dr. Chrystal, in tones of warm affection, ‘^and saying 
to myself that if, in the providence of God, I should 
never come back to my work, I would like to leave 
something with you that would linger in your memory 
after I am gone.” 

^^But you’re coming back again all right. Dr. 
Chrystal,” said Bert, looking up with much concern 
in his countenance, for he had never thought of its 
being otherwise. 

‘‘ I am sure I hope and pray so with all my heart,” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 325 

replied Dr. Chrystal, fervently. ^‘But there are many 
things to be considered, and God alone knows how it 
will be with me a few months hence. I am altogether 
in his hands.” 

‘^Well, God knows right well that we couldn’t have 
a better minister than you, sir, and so there’s no fear 
but he’ll send you back to us all right,” returned Bert, 
his eager loyalty to his pastor quite carrying him 
away. 

Dr. Chrystal smiled sympathetically at the boy’s 
enthusiasm. 

There are just as good fish in the sea as have ever 
yet been caught, Bert,” he answered. 

I thoroughly appreciate your kind, and I know 
sincere, compliment, but it was not to talk about my- 
self that I joined you, but about yourself. I have 
been thinking that it is full time you took up some 
definite work for your Heavenly Master. Don’t you 
think so, too?” 

Yes, I do, sir ; and so does Frank, and we’re 
both quite willing to make a beginning, but we don’t 
just know what to go at.” 

I have been thinking about that, too, Bert, and I 
have an idea I want to discuss with you. You know 
the streets that lie between the north and south por- 
tions of our city, and how densely they are packed 
with people, very few of whom make any pretensions 
to religion at all. Now, would it not be possible for 
you and Frank to do a little city missionary work in 


326 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

those streets. The field is white unto the harvest, 
but the laborers are so few tlrat it is sad to see how 
little is being done. What do you think about it? ” 

Bert did not answer at once. He knew well the 
locality Dr. Chrystal had in mind, and the class of 
people that inhabited it. For square after square, ten- 
ement houses, tall, grimy, and repulsive, alternated 
with groggeries, flaunting, flashy, and reeking with 
iniquity. The residents were of the lowest and poor- 
est order. Filth, vice, and poverty held high carni- 
val the whole year round. In the day time crowds of 
tattered gamins played roughly with one another in 
the streets, and after dark, drunken soldiers, sailors, 
and wharf men made night hideous with their de- 
graded revelry or frenzied fighting. 

And yet these people had souls to save, and even 
though they might seem sunken in sin beyond all 
hope of recovery, they had children that might be 
trained to better ways and a brighter future. It was 
these children that Dr. Chrystal had in mind when 
he spoke to Bert. A union mission school had lately 
been established in the very heart of this unattractive 
district, and it was sorely in need of workers. 

Both Bert and Frank were quite competent to 
undertake work of this kind, did they but give their 
minds to it, and Dr. Chrystal was anxious to have 
their interest in it thoroughly aroused before he went 
away. 

After a few moments’ silence, during which his 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


327 


brain had been very busy with conflicting thoughts, 
Bert looked up into his pastor’s face, and said, in a 
doubtful way : 

“ Don’t you think, sir, that is rather hard work to 
put us at at first ? ” 

Dr. Chrystal gave him a tender smile. It is hard 
work, I know, Bert,” said he. I would not for a 
moment try to argue that it is anything else, but I am 
none the less desirous of seeing you engaged in it. 
You and Frank would make splendid recruiting ser- 
geants for the little mission school, and you could 
be very helpful in keeping order, or even in teaching 
at the morning session. By doing this you would 
not interfere with either your church going or your 
own Sunday-school in the afternoon. I wish you 
would talk the matter over with Frank, and of 
course consult your parents about it.” 

Bert readily promised that he would do this, for 
although he, as was natural enough, shrank from un- 
dertaking what conld not be otherwise than trying 
and difficult work, yet he felt that if his father fully 
approved of it, and Frank took it up heartily, he 
would be able at least to give it a trial. Dr. Chrys- 
tal was evidently well pleased with the result of the 
conversation, and in parting with Bert took his hand 
in his, and pressing it warmly, said : 

“ God’s best blessings be upon you, Bert. You are 
fitted to do good work for him. May you ever be a 
workman that needeth not to be ashamed.” 


328 


BERT I>LOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


Little did Bert imagine that these would be the 
last words Dr. Chrystal would address to him per- 
sonally, or that, as he turned away with a seraphic 
smile upon his face, he would see him but once more 
alive. 

The following Sunday was the last that Dr. Chrys- 
tal would spend with his congregation previous to his 
going away, and as he appeared before them at the 
morning service it was the general opinion that his 
abstention from work was taking place none too soon, 
for he certainly seemed to sorely need it. 

In spite of evident weakness, he preached with un- 
abated eloquence and fervor. Indeed, he was per- 
haps more earnest than usual, and his sermon made a 
profound impression upon the congregation that 
thronged the church. In the afternoon he visited the 
Sunday-school, and said a word or two to each one of 
the teachers as he passed up and down the classes. 
The evening service found the church filled to its 
utmost capacity, and a smile of inexpressible love and 
sweetness illuminated the pastor’s pale face as he came 
out from the study, and beheld the multitude gathered 
to hear the gospel from his lips. 

Doesn’t he look like an angel?’’ whispered Bert 
to Frank, as the boys sat together in their accus- 
tomed place. 

‘‘He doesn’t simply look like one. He is one,” 
Frank whispered back, and Bert nodded his assent. 

The service proceeded with singing and prayer 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


329 


and Bible reading, and then came the sermon. Dr. 
Chrjstal was evidently laboring under strong emotion. 
His words did not at first flow with their wonted 
freedom, and some among his listeners began to think 
it would have been well if he had not attempted to 
preach. But presently all this hesitation passed 
away, and he launched out into an earnest impas- 
sioned appeal to his people to be steadfast, immovable, 
always abounding in the work of the Lord. Although 
he did not say expressly that this might be the last 
time he would ever speak to them from the pulpit, 
there was something in his manner that showed this 
thought was present in his mind. 

He had gotten about half through his sermon, and 
every eye in that congregation was fixed upon him, 
and every ear attent to his burning words, when sud- 
denly he stopped. A deadly pallor took possession of 
his face ; he pressed his left hand with a gesture of 
pain against his heart, while with the other he strove 
to steady himself in the pulpit. For a moment he 
stood there silent, and swaying to and fro before the 
startled congregation ; and then, ere Mr. Lloyd, who 
had been watching liim intently all through the ser- 
vice, could spring up the steps to his side, he fell back 
with a dull thud upon the cushioned seat behind him, 
and thence sank to the floor. 

When Mr. Lloyd reached him, and bending down 
lifted him in his strong arms from the floor. Dr. 
Chrystal opened his eyes, looked upon his friend with 


330 


BEET LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 


a smile that seemed a reflection from heaven, breathed 
softly the words : The Lord be with you,” and then, 
Muth a gentle sigh, closed his eyes to open them again 
in the presence of the Master he had served so well. 

It is not possible to describe the scene that followed, 
when all present became aware that their beloved 
pastor had gone from them upon a journey from 
which there could be no returning. They were so 
stunned, saddened, and bewildered, that they knew 
not what to do with themselves. The men and 
women sat weeping in their seats, or wandered aim- 
lessly about the aisles to speak with one another, 
while the children, not realizing the full import of 
what had happened, looked on in fear and wonder. 
It was some time before the congregation dispersed. 
Dr. Chrystal’s body was tenderly carried into the 
study, and there was nothing more to do; and yet 
they lingered about as if hoping that perhaps it might 
prove to be only a faint or trance, after all, for it 
seemed so hard to believe the dreadful truth. 

As Bert and Frank walked home together, with 
hearts full to overflowing and tear-stained faces, 
Mr. Silver caught up to them, and pushing them 
apart, took an arm of each. For a few steps he said 
nothing ; and then, as if musing to himself: 

‘ God buries his workmen, but his work goes on.' 
Our pastor has gone. He is not — because God has 
taken him — not dead, but translated. Upon whom 
will his mantle fall, boys ? ” 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


331 


I am sure I don’t know, Mr. Silver,” replied 
Bert. But this I do know, that we can never have 
a better minister.” 

No, I suppose not — according to our way of think- 
ing, at all events ; but we must not let that thought 
paralyze our energies. The vacant pulpit has its 
lesson for each one of us, boys,” returned Mr. 
Silver. 

Yes, it means work, and it seems so strange that 
Dr. Chrystal should have spoken to me as he did the 
very last time he saw me,” said Bert. And then he 
proceeded to repeat the conversation concerning the 
city mission work. 

I am so glad he spoke to you about that,” said 
Mr. Silver. I had intended doing so myself, but it 
has been far better done now. You will do what you 
can, both of you ?” 

Yes, we will,” replied Bert and Frank together, 
in tones of unmistakable purpose. 

Perliaps, then,” said Mr. Silver, reflectively, the 
question I asked a moment ago may yet be answered 
by you, dear boys. Would you like to think that 
Dr. Chrystal’s mantle should fall upon you, and that 
in due time you should take up the glorious work he 
has just laid down? To what nobler career can a 
man aspire than that of being one of the Master’s 
shepherds ? ” 

The boys were silent. The thought was new to 
them, and altogether too great to be grasped at once. 


332 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD, 


And Mr. Silver wisely did not press them for an 
answer before he bade them Good-night and God 
bless you both.” 

But his question remained in their minds. It 
proved a seed thought that in the case of one of them 
was later on destined to find itself in good ground, 
and to spring up and bear goodly fruit. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


A BOY NO LONGER. 

F rank and Bert put their hearts into the city 
mission work, just as they did into everything 
else that they undertook, and it was well they did. 
For surely nothing save genuine zeal, and fidelity to 
a strong purpose could have carried them through the 
experiences that awaited them. The mission school 
was still small and struggling. But for the almost 
heroic energies of its superintendent, a clerk in a city 
banking house, it could not have been carried on at 
all. He was a small, slight, fragile-looking man, but 
he had a heart big enough for a giant, and having 
consecrated his spare hours to this most unattractive 
of all phases of Christian work, he carried it on with 
a self-denying earnestness that no difficulties could 
dampen, nor obstacles appall. He was as ready with 
his purse, to the extent of its slender ability, as he 
was with his Bible, and his splendid unselfishness was 
so well appreciated by the dangerous degraded beings 
among whom he toiled, that alone and unprotected he 
might go among them at any hour of the day or 
night, and meet with nothing but respect and rude 
courtesy. 

Such a man was David McMaster, under whose 

333 


334 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


direction Bert and Frank lost no time in placing them- 
selves ; and a right glad welcome they had from him, 
his pale thin face fairly glowing with pleasure at the 
addition to his force of two such promising recruits. 
With him they went the rounds of squalid tenements, 
hideous back alleys, and repulsive shanties, the tattered 
children gazing at them with faces in which curiosity 
was mingled with aversion, and their frowsy parents 
giving them looks of enmity and mistrust, no doubt 
because they were so clean and well dressed. 

But apparently noting nothing of this, Mr. McMas- 
ter led the way from one rookery to another, introduc- 
ing his new workers to their wretched inhabitants with 
an easy grace that disarmed all suspicion, and made 
them feel that so long as he was the presiding genius 
of the school, they had nothing to fear in the worst 
locality. 

The following Sunday morning they began work on 
their own account. The school was held at ten o’clock, 
closing just in time to permit the teachers to get to 
church, and the part assigned to Bert and Frank was 
to go out into the highways and by-ways, and invite 
the children playing in the dirt to come to the school, 
or else to go to the homes, if such they could be called, 
of those whose names were already upon the roll, and 
secure their attendance at the service. 

Then when the school opened they found plenty to 
do, distributing the hymn books, helping in the sing- 
ing, keeping a sharp lookout for unruly behavior. 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


335 


watching the door lest any scholar should take it into 
his head to bolt, insuring an equitable division of the 
picture papers, and so on until the hour came to close 
the school, and they turned their steps churchward, 
feeling with good reason that they had really been 
doing work for God, and hard work, too. 

They soon grew to love Mr. McMaster as much as 
they admired his zeal. He was in many ways a quaint, 
curious character. His body seemed so small and 
insignificant, and his spirit so mighty. He knew 
neither fear nor despair in the prosecution of his 
chosen work, and it was impossible to be associated 
with him without being infected by his unquenchable 
ardor. For some time no special incident marked 
their work, and then Bert had an experience that 
jnight have brought his part with it to an end had he 
been made of less sturdy stuff. 

In company with Mr. McMaster he was making the 
usual round previous to the opening of the school, 
beating up unreliable scholars, and had entered a damp, 
noisome alley, lined on either side with tumble-down 
apologies for houses. Mr. McMaster took one side 
and Bert the other, and they proceeded to visit the 
different dwellers in this horrible place. Bert had 
knocked at several doors without getting any response 
for the people were apt to lie in bed late on Sunday 
morning, and then his attention was aroused by sounds 
of crying mingled with oaths, that came from the gar- 
ret of a villainous-looking tenement. He could hear 


336 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


the voices of a woman and of a child raised in entreaty 
and terror, and ' hhout pausing to consider the conse- 
quences, sprang e broken stairs to the room from 
which they issueu. 

On opening the ' a scene presented itself that 
would have stirred the sympathies of a man of stone. 
Pat Brannigan, the big w^harf laborer, had devoted 
the greater portion of his week’s wages to making 
himself and his boon companions drunk with the vile 
rum dealt out at the groggery hard by. At midnight 
he had stumbled home, and throwing himself upon 
his bed sought to sleep off the effects of his carouse. 
Waking up late in the morning with a raging head- 
ache, a burning tongue, and bloodshot eyes, he had 
become infuriated at his poor little girl, that cowered 
tremblingly in a corner, because she would not go out 
and get him some more drink. Half-crazed, and 
utterly reckless, he had sprung at the child, and might 
have inflicted mortal injury upon her had not the 
mother interposed, and kept him at bay for a moment, 
while she joined her shrieks to those the girl was 
already uttering. 

It was just at this moment that Bert entered the 
room. As quick as a flash he sprang to Pat Branni- 
gan’s side, and seized his arm now uplifted to strike 
down the unhappy wife. With a howl of rage the 
big brute turned to see who had thus dared to inter- 
fere. He did not know Bert, and his surprise at see- 
ing a well-dressed stranger in the room made him 



Bert Lloyd’s Boyhood 


Page 336 




BEET Lloyd’s boyhood. 337 

hesitate a moment. Then, with an oath, he de- 
manded : 

“Who may you be, and what’s your business 
here ? ” 

Bert looked straight into his eyes, as he answered, 
quietly : 

“ I heard the noise, and I came in to see w^hat was 
the matter.” 

“Then you can just be taking yourself off again as 
fast as you like,” growled the giant, fiercely. 

Bert did not stir. 

“ Be off with you now. Do you hear me?” shouted 
Brannigan, raising his clenched fist in a way there was 
no mistaking. 

Still Bert did not move. 

“Then take that,” yelled Brannigan, aiming a ter- 
rible blow at the boy. But before it could reach him 
the poor wife, with a wild shriek, sprang in between 
them, and her husband’s great fist descended upon her 
head, felling her to the floor, where she lay as though 
dead. 

At this moment, Mr. McMaster rushed in through 
the open door. Pat Brannigan knew him well, and 
when sober held him in profound respect. Even 
now his appearance checked his fury, and he stood 
swaying in the centre of the room, looking with his 
bleared bloodshot eyes, first at Mr. McMaster, and 
then at the motionless heap upon the floor at his feet. 

Advancing a step or two, Mr. McMaster looked 

w 


338 


BERT LLOYD S BOYHOOD. 


into Brannigan’s fiery face, and asked, sternly, as he 
pointed to the insensible woman lying between them : 

Is that your work ? 

The giant quailed before the fearless, condemning 
glance of the man who seemed like a pigmy beside 
him. His head fell upon his breast, and without at- 
tempting a reply, he slunk over to the other end of 
the room, flung himself into a chair, and buried his 
face in his hands. 

Come, Bert, let us lift her up on the bed,^^ said 
Mr. McMaster, and between them Mrs. Brannigau 
was lifted gently, and placed upon the miserable bed. 

Now, Katie, get us some cold water, quick,” said 
he, turning to the little girl, who watched him with 
wondering eyes. As if glad to get out of the room, 
she sped away, and presently returned with a tin of 
water, with which Mr. McMaster tenderly bathed 
Mrs. Brannigan’s forehead, and soon the poor sulferer 
recovered consciousness. Mr. McMaster and Bert 
then went away, the former promising to look in 
again after school was over, and see if further help 
might be required. 

When Bert told of the morning’s experience at 
home, his mother became very much agitated, and 
seemed strongly inclined to oppose his continuing the 
work. But Mr. Lloyd was not of the same opinion 
at all. He thought it a very admirable training for 
Bert, and Bert himself had no disposition to give it 
up. Accordingly, he went on as though nothing had 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


339 


happened, meeting with many discouragements, and 
few real successes, yet sustained by a steady impulse 
to willing service, strengthened by a real interest in 
the work itself. 

The days of Bert’s boyhood were rapidly passing 
by. The time was approaching for him to enter 
college, and once enrolled as an undergraduate he 
could of course be counted a boy no longer. Not in- 
deed that he was growing old in the sense of becoming 
too prim or particular to indulge in boyish sports and 
pranks. There was nothing premature in his de- 
velopment. He was in advance of many boys of his 
age, it is true, but that was only because he strove to 
be. 

He was not content unless he stood among the lead- 
ers, whether in study or sport. He looked forward 
to college with ardent expectation. Ever since the 
days of Mr. Garrison’s school he had been accus- 
tomed to see the students in their Oxford caps and 
flowing black gowns going to and from the university 
which had its home in a handsome free-stone building 
that stood right in the heart of the city, and he had 
felt impatient for the time to come when he might 
adopt the same odd and striking costume. 

During the past year his studies had been directed 
with special reference to the matriculation examina- 
tion. As regards the classics, he could not have had a 
better teacher than Dr. Johnston, and his progress in 
knowledge of them had been sure and steady. In 


340 BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 

mathematics, however, he was hardly up to the mark, 
partly because they were not taught with the same 
enthusiasm at Dr. Johnston’s, and partly because he 
did not take to them very kindly himself. Mr. Lloyd 
accordingly thought it wise to engage a tutor who 
would give him daily lessons during the midsummer 
holidays. 

Bert, as was quite natural, did not altogether relish 
the idea of mingling work with play in this fashion 
in the glorious summer weather when the days seemed 
all too short for the enjoyment that was to be had; 
but when Frank, who was of course to go to college 
also, entered heartily into the plan, and Mr. Scott, the 
tutor, proved to be a very able and interesting instruc- 
tor, full of enthusiasm about the university, in which 
he was one of the most brilliant students, Bert’s 
indifference soon disappeared, and the three lads — for 
Mr. Scott was still in his teens — had a fine time to- 
gether that summer, studying hard for two hours each 
morning, and spending the rest of the day in boating, 
or cricket, or some other pleasant fashion. 

As the heat of summer yielded to the cool breezes 
of autumn, and the time for the opening of the college 
drew near, Bert grew very excited. There were two 
scholarships offered at each matriculation examination, 
one open to those coming from the city, the other to 
those from the country. He had fixed his ambition 
upon the city scholarship, and determined to do his 
best to win it. He had caught some of his tutor’s 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


341 


enthusiasm, and fully appreciated the importance 
of a brilliant beginning. Accordingly, he gave dili- 
gent heed to the good advice Mr. Scott delighted to 
give him, as well as to the studies he set for him, 
and looked forward hopefully to the approaching ex- 
amination. 

Toward the end of October the examination took 
place. It was the boys’ first experience of a written 
examination, and it is little wonder if they felt nerv- 
ous about it. 

With Mr. Scott as guide they made their way to 
the university building, where he led them along the 
echoing stone corridors to a door inscribed, “ Library 
and then, wisliing them the best of fortune, bade 
them enter and try their fate. They found themselves 
in a large bright room whose floor was covered with 
desks, and the walls lined with bookcases, and hav- 
ing at one end a baize-covered table, around which sat 
several spectacled gentlemen attired in long black 
gowns, and chatting busily with one another. They 
took no notice of the two boys, who sat down at the 
nearest desk, and awaited developments. They were 
the first candidates in the room, but others presently 
came in until more than a score had gathered. 

All evidently felt more or less nervous, although 
some tried very hard to appear unconcerned. They 
varied in age from Bert, who was undoubtedly the 
youngest, to a long-bearded, sober-visaged Scotchman, 
who might almost have been his father; their appear- 


342 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


ance was as different as their ages, some being spruce, 
well-dressed city lads, and others the most rustic- 
looking of youths, clad in rough homespun. They 
each sat down in the first seat they could find, and 
then stared about them as if they would like very 
much to know what was going to happen next. 

They had not long to wait in uncertainty. A short, 
stout pleasant-faced professor disengaged himself from 
the group at the table, and stepping up to the plat- 
form, said, in a smooth voice, with a strong Scotch 
accent ; 

“ If you are ready to begin, gentlemen, will you 
please arrange yourselves so as to occupy only every 
alternate desk.” 

There was a little noise and bustle as this order was 
being carried out, and then they settled down again, 
with a vacant desk between each pair as a precaution 
against whispered assistance. The next proceeding 
was to distribute paper to the candidates, they being 
expected to supply their own pens and ink. And 
then came what all were awaiting with beating pulse — 
viz., the examination paper. Each one as he received 
his paper ran his eye eagerly down the list of ques- 
tions, his countenance growing bright or gloomy 
according as, to this hasty survey, the questions seemed 
easy or difficult. 

Bert scanned his list rapidly, gave a great sigh of 
relief, and then turned to Frank with a meaning 
smile, which said more plainly than words : 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


343 


I’m all right.” 

Frank smiled back, in token that he was all right, 
too, and then the two boys bent to their work. 

They did not get along very fast at the start. It 
was their first written examination, and this, added to 
their natural nervousness, kept both their ideas and 
their ink from flowing freely. But after a few min- 
utes they forgot themselves in their eagerness to 
commit to paper the answers to the questions before 
them, and for an hour or more they scribbled away 
until the first paper, which was upon the classics, had 
nothing unanswered left upon it. 

Bert finished first, and the professor, noticing him 
unemployed, brought him another paper, this time 
the mathematical one. As he expected, he did not do 
quite as well with it. But he felt sure of being right 
in his answers to six out of the ten questions, and 
very hopeful about two others, so that altogether he 
was well satisfied. 

The third and last paper was upon the English 
branches — history, grammar, geography, and so forth, 
and he polished this off with little difficulty, making 
a clean sweep of the dozen question. All this took 
until after one o’clock, and when he laid down his 
pen with his task finished, he felt pretty tired, and 
anxious to get out and stretch himself*. Frank, how- 
ever, was not quite through, so he waited for him, 
and then the friends hurried off to compare notes, and 
estimate their chances. 


344 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


The results would not be declared for two days at 
least, and Bert fouud it very hard to keep his im- 
patience in check. He could think of nothing else 
than those examinations. Having answered so many 
questions, he felt not the slightest uneasiness as to 
passing; but the scholarship — ah ! that was the point. 
Mr. Scott had made it very clear what an important 
position a scholarship winner held in his class. It 
gave him the lead at once, and was in every way an 
honor to be highly coveted. 

Well, the longest days have their ending, and the 
two days of excited uncertainty dragged themselves 
past, and on Friday morning with a heart beating like 
a trip hammer, Bert hastened to the university. The 
results would be posted up on a huge blackboard that 
hung in the central corridor, and on entering he fouud 
an eager crowd thronging about this board, through 
which he had some difficulty in making his wav. 
But by dint of pushing and elbowing, he soon got near 
enough to make out what was written on the long 
sheets of paper that occupied the centre of the board, 
and then — how shall be described the bound of wild 
delight his heart gave, when he read : Tlie Oity 
Scholarship — Cuthbert Lloyd.’^ 

Then underneath the word ^‘Passed” in large letters, 
the name ‘^Cuthbert Lloyd,^' and a few names 
lower down Frask Bowser,^^ while below them 
were the rest of the candidates. 

Frank was beside him, and by a common impulse 


BERT LI.OYD’s BOYHOOD. 


345 


of joy the two friends threw their arms about each 
otlier, and hugged one another like two enthusiastic 
young bears. Then they ran off as fast as their legs 
could carry them to tell the good news. 

There was not a happier, prouder family in all 
Acadia that night than the Lloyds. Mr. Bowser and 
Frank came in to exchange congratulations, and they 
rejoiced together over the boys’ success. Mr. Bowser 
was as delighted over Frank’s passing as Mr. Lloyd 
was over Bert’s scholarship. Like many men of de- 
fective education, he had very vague views about col- 
lege. It was all a mystery to him, and that Frank, 
whom he w^as just finding out to be something more 
than a boy, should so easily penetrate these mysteries, 
and take a good place among the candidates for admis- 
sion, was a source of unbounded satisfaction to him. 

After the first exuberance of joy had subsided, the 
conversation sobered down somewhat, and they began 
to talk about the future. 

Now, young gentlemen, — for I suppose I dare not 
call you boys any longer,” said Mr. Lloyd, smilingly, 
— “ you should soon be making up your minds as to 
what part in life you intend to take, because, once 
you have decided, your studies at college should be 
carried on with that end in view. Don’t you think 
so, Mr. Bowser?” 

I most certainly do, sir,” replied Mr. Bowser, 
promptly. 

Well, of course, it is not a question to be decided 


346 


BERT Lloyd’s boyhood. 


off hand,” continued Mr. Lloyd, nor one which we 
should decide for you, unless you turn it over to us. 
So we will leave it with you for a while, if you like.” 

I don’t think that’s necessary, father,” spoke up 
Bert. Frank and I have pretty well made up our 
minds already — that is, of course, if there is no objec- 
tion.” 

‘•And what is your choice, Frank?” asked Mr. 
Lloyd. 

“ I would like to follow my father’s business, if he 
will have me, sir,” answered Frank, giving his father 
a look of inquiry. 

Mr. Bowser’s face flushed with pleasure. He rose 
from his chair, and crossing the room to where his son 
sat, he put his big hand upon his shoulder, and said, 
in his heartiest tones : 

“ Aye — that I will, my lad, and all that I have 
shall be yours when I am gone.” 

“ I hope that won’t be for a long time yet, father,” 
said Frank, looking up affectionately into his father’s 
beaming face. 

“ So do I, my boy, so do I ; but when it does 
happen, God knows what a comfort it will be to me 
to leave such a son behind me.” And the tears slipped 
down his broad cheeks as he went back to his chair. 

There was a moment’s silence, for all had been 
affected by this touching little scene ; and then, Mr. 
Lloyd, turning to Bert, inquired of him : 

“ And what is your choice, Bert ? ” 


BERT LLOYD^S BOYHOOD. 


347 


Well, father, if you think I can ever become fit 
for it, I would like to be a minister,^’ he answered, 
modestly. 

It was now Mr. Lloyd’s turn to become radiant. 

‘‘ My darling boy, you could not have delighted me 
more,” he cried. “ It has been my desire and prayer 
for you, that this should be your choice, but I have 
said nothing to you, because I wanted you to be per- 
fectly free and unbiased by any thought of pleasing 
me. I see clearly now that this is the Lord’s doing, 
and my heart is full to overflowing with joy. God 
bless you both, my boys. I am sure that the hope 
and prayer of us all is that in your manhood may be 
fulfilled the promise of your boyhood that has been 
so bright, and to which you have now bidden fare- 
well.” 


THE END. 










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